Infinite Dawn
by x Ugly Duckling x
Summary: SEQUEL to Inner Dawn. Bella becomes immortal, Charlie learns their secret, but... how can she be pregnant again? Will the Volturi threaten to destroy everything, or will something else? Their final destiny is at last revealed. Post Breaking Dawn. **ON HOLD INDEFINITELY**
1. Chapter 1: Second Opinion

**Those who read my first Twilight story may be surprised that I decided to write a sequel. I originally had no intention of continuing the story, but I changed my mind a couple months later. That's a woman's prerogative, after all.**

**So here's what to expect from this shocking sequel: **

**The plotline is grand and epic in scale. Brace yourselves.**

**It's darker than the original fic. More pain and suffering, distress, and edgier overall. (But not without a happy ending.)**

**Carlisle's medical expertise comes into play significantly more.**

**Ambitious scenes most authors won't touch? Don't mind if I do.**

**Emotional closure – you thought the first story had it, but this one offers even more.**

**And most of all, the Volturi reprise their meddlesome role… but not for long. **

**Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 1 – Second Opinion**

**Bella**

Panic had erupted the day Edward detected no heartbeat pounding below my navel. The next several days blurred between a dozen family meetings, from one medical examination beneath Carlisle's pinched brow to another. At its apex, the range and intensity of emotions brewing within the house made my head spin.

Edward retreated into mute self-loathing, no doubt cursing what he considered foolish optimism in playing roulette. Carlisle spoke only marginally more than his son, and when he did, I found myself wishing he'd adopted Edward's vow of silence. His grim tone unnerved me more than his words, which were unpleasant enough to begin with. Yet I knew his prognosis long before he spoke it. I recalled with perfect clarity what he'd said the day we discovered I was pregnant with Miles:

"_Several months ago… I stumbled upon something I'd never seen before. It was the only documented account of a human-vampire pregnancy. The story didn't have a happy ending. The child was too incompatible with the mother's physiology and she died within minutes of childbirth. _

_Without a more detailed account, though, I can't identify what went wrong or if it could have been avoided. But I do know the child was said to have had no pulse. He was like us."_

I'd known for three years what the worst case scenario was. Why should I – or anyone else, for that matter – have an aneurysm over it now? Especially since Edward had patently agreed to change me in that worst case scenario? Besides that, everyone seemed to be ignoring what I thought was a fairly significant factor: the hapless woman in Carlisle's dusty medical volumes had lacked access to a physician as capable as he, much less to half a dozen other vampires who were no less attentive. If ever there was an ideal position to find oneself carrying a potentially lethal child, surely this was it.

And so I awaited Carlisle's judgment. Beneath the monitor on which the baby's sonogram image was suspended, Edward sat hunched next to the exam table, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at nothing. Whether from distraction or for dramatic effect, Carlisle left the machine running, its high-pitched hum gathering the room's tension and magnifying it a hundred times over.

On eye level with me from straddling his vinyl stool, he remained silent while returning the sonogram transponder to its clip. I refused to look anywhere but his face until he spoke, ensuring he sensed my determination to be told everything, my firm refusal to be patronized or spared any detail.

"Bella…" he began, unwillingly meeting my eyes, "I get the feeling you already know much of what to expect, at least in terms of the… end result. Edward has likely briefed you on that," he swallowed uncomfortably. "My job is to prepare you for everything leading up to that point."

My focus was suddenly interrupted by the touch of ice against my hand. Though his gaze remained averted from mine, Edward had enclosed my fragile hand in his, a quiet yet moving gesture of solidarity. I sensed it wasn't without effort that he pulled himself out of his self-imposed prison to connect with me.

"When I first told you about the other woman, I deliberately left out the details of her case. There was no reason to alarm you at the time," Carlisle sighed heavily. "But you deserve to be fully informed now. No patient of mine receives less than full disclosure of their condition… even when that patient lives under my roof and is pregnant with my third grandchild."

Edward's hand flinched involuntarily. The movement triggered a realization, startling in its clarity and stunning that I hadn't noticed it before. What woman finds herself in the obstetric care of her own father-in-law, whose duty it is not only to treat her thoroughly and professionally, but also contend with his son's tormented conscience? Who else's prenatal appointments involve discussing the life-threatening result of sexual relations with their doctor's own son? Perhaps I'd judged Edward's discomfort unfairly.

The sound of a clipboard sliding across Carlisle's desk halted my thoughts; I turned to see him holding a thick pile of hand-written notes clasped together. Flipping several pages over, he exhaled once more. "I'll start with the basics. You remember that Miles and Ivy gestated slightly ahead of schedule – eight months instead of nine?" I nodded. "Well, everything I've observed indicates this baby will be born in just four months."

Blinking, I reflexively looked down at my abdomen. If I was honest with myself, it _was_ already swelling, an observation I'd tried to dismiss as bloating. Carlisle's assessment meant it was time to move past the denial and rotate my maternity wardrobe to the top drawer of my dresser again.

"This seems to correspond with the other woman's record. Though it was written in Italian, it translates to 'half the time of confinement.' I believe the acceleration is meant to curtail the demands on the mother's system," he turned to the next page, forehead tightening as he did so. "But while the pregnancy is shortened, it's also intensified. Everything you experienced before will feel twice as acute this time. Your daily caloric intake also needs to double. I've given Esme a protein and vitamin-rich menu to work from; she and Alice will prepare your meals and ensure you eat enough."

Aside from the idea of Alice spoon-feeding me like an infant, nothing Carlisle had said was overly troubling. Yet the impulse to rejoice was cut short when he dropped the clipboard onto his lap. Whatever followed would be unscripted, and from the look in his eyes, that signaled the end of the good news and the beginning of the bad. Edward sensed it as well, elevating his gaze cautiously to peer across my prostrate form.

"Even with the best nutrition, Bella, the strain on your body will be severe. The baby will route all available resources to itself – including those already in your system." He paused, obviously on the verge of divulging the worst of it. "Within two months, you'll most likely be anemic. The calcium in your bones will have diminished to the point of early-stage osteoporosis, and your blood oxygen will be diluted. Overall, your energy levels will plummet, resulting in a state of weakness that can be best described as… semi-catatonic."

His words finally managed to cut through my arrogance. Catatonic was how I'd describe my response to James' attack five years ago. The nauseating disorientation, endlessly drifting in and out of consciousness and distorted dreams, finding myself just this side of total disembodiment… I shivered at the prospect of reliving that, especially for weeks or months on end. At such a critical point in my life, reality wasn't something I relished losing my grasp on.

Desperate to speak before anything else came out of Carlisle's mouth, I sat up anxiously. "Can't you just give me extra vitamins? You can even use an IV if that makes it easier."

He shook his head sadly. "Your kidneys can only handle so much, Bella. Trust me, I'll be giving you the highest allowable dosages of iron and calcium, but even that won't be enough. Anything more will put you at serious risk of renal failure."

Instinct urged me to argue, to press him into admitting he knew of some magical solution. Yet never had I known Carlisle to arbitrarily withhold anything, to offer a fraction less than his verified best. No matter how grim my outlook, he deserved to be taken at his word and trusted implicitly. His job would be difficult enough without hysteria or irrational denial on my part; the least I could do was remain as calm and brave as possible, even if that meant ignoring the sirens blaring in my head.

"There is one thing that will help tremendously, maybe even more than the supplements. Do you know what that is?" he asked while shutting the ultrasound machine off.

I shook my head, eager for his answer, to learn what secret elixir he'd just thought of.

A faint smile appeared on Carlisle's mouth. "Don't feel guilty," he stated. "Everyone in the house knows what to expect, and none of us think of you as an imposition. Please accept our care graciously. A positive state of mind will do wonders for everyone, most of all you." He stepped over to the counter, returning with a glass of water in one hand and a tiny cup holding two pills in the other.

"Here's your first dose. Be sure to drink _all_ the water," he emphasized. "You'll take another set tonight. Twice a day will be the routine." Glancing briefly at Edward, who seemed to be staring into another dimension, he nodded once and exited the room.

As soon as his shadow vanished down the hall, I fixed Edward with a no-nonsense stare. Left to his own devices, his self-deprecation would only fester until he lost the ability to communicate altogether. Immediate action was required if I hoped to staunch the downward spiral before it gained too much momentum.

"Edward, look at me."

His eyes flickered in a restless quest to scan every square inch of my body except for the region above my neck. "I _am_ looking at you," he mumbled, though obviously no more convinced than I was.

"Look in my eyes."

I was willing to wait hours if need be. Not only had we come too far to regress in our maturity, but this situation deserved – demanded – courage and tenacious presence of mind unlike any yet required of us. This was the final purge of whatever selfish remnants lingered in our hearts, the pinnacle of all challenges merged into one. Yes, I would wait hours if Edward needed that long to embrace our brave new reality.

Thankfully, I didn't have to. Whether he'd sensed my firm commitment or summoned his own, I watched his amber eyes cautiously pivot upward until they locked onto me with heartbreaking depth.

"I know what you're thinking," I said quietly. "But you need to remember that we both chose this. I knew the risks as well as you. So please, please don't blame yourself," I squeezed his hand as tightly as I could.

"That's easy for you to say now. Just wait another month or two, when you're too weak to sit upright," he winced.

I breathed deeply before replying. "I'm not going to delude myself into thinking it will be easy. But there are several things that will make it easier than it would be otherwise."

"Like what?"

"Knowing what the finish line holds – that what I'm going through is worth it," smiling wanly, I guided his hand to rest on my stomach. "Then there's the fact that I've always been comfortable being alone in my own mind, daydreaming most of the time away. If I develop a mental catalog of thoughts and images to get me through, it should make it better, or at least tolerable."

Still appearing dubious, Edward watched me shift into a full sitting position. "Even if that doesn't work, I'll have eternity with you to look forward to. You of all people should know how valuable that is to me." Framing his face with my hands, my fingers locked around his rigid, square jaw line. "And if I know you're as happy about this baby as I am, that will do more for my mind, body and soul than Carlisle's best medicine. I need you to trust in that."

He dropped his eyes, but from thoughtfulness rather than shame. At least he was contemplating my words instead of summarily dismissing them as he would have in the past. Part of me wanted to take full credit, to congratulate myself on slicing through his defenses with my brilliant, compelling little speech. Yet I knew the credit was his alone. No one could impose such a character transformation on another; change is always instigated from within, and I simply had the honor of witnessing its finest moment in Carlisle's small office. The moment was sealed when Edward pressed his hand into mine, sparking a transfusion of warmth that belied his cold palm.

"We'll get through this together," I whispered, a single tear stinging my left eye. "There's no other way. I wouldn't want there to be."

His nod was subtle yet comforting. "Take your pills," he whispered back, glancing at the pair of cups balanced on Carlisle's stool. "Then I'll promise to be brave."


	2. Chapter 2: Red

**CHAPTER 2 – Red**

**Bella**

No sooner had I swallowed the pills when a face appeared at the door, bronze curls barely reaching the doorknob under which it cautiously peered. "Is Mama okay?" Miles asked between bites of a popsicle, which had stained his entire chin orange. Even disheveled and sticky, his presence all but swept away the tension that had descended upon Carlisle's office, delivering an unexpected beam of sunshine just when we needed it most.

Another face that likewise brightened most situations appeared directly above Miles'. Mouth drawn in a sheepish grimace, Alice edged her way into the room with a sleeping Ivy balanced on her hip. "Sorry, he was really worried and kept begging to come up. Do you mind?"

"No, it's perfectly fine," I smiled genuinely. "Come on over and sit on grandpa's stool, Miles." What better way to relieve his anxiety than offering him his favorite gadget?

Bounding over to land on the vinyl cushion, his momentum sent the wheeled seat spinning wildly, ricocheting off the exam table like a pinball before Alice intervened with a steadying hand. I caught a glimpse of his orange-stained tongue as he squealed with delight.

"Aunt Alice tells me you're worried," I commented after his excitement had ebbed.

"Uh-huh," he nodded shyly. "Gramma said you might be sick, and grandpa doesn't look very happy."

His concern touched me along with his perceptiveness. Times like these reminded us that while his physical growth was on par with other children his age, the same definitely wasn't true of his cognitive development. Most days passed without too many precocious incidents, but he seemed to know just when to remind us that he was his father's son, lest his ordinary appearance fool us for long.

"Grandma's right sweetie. I won't have much energy to play with you after a while, and I'll need to rest a lot. But we can take naps together if you like."

My offer seemed agreeable enough, yet it didn't cleanse the worry from his eyes. Behind him, Alice shifted ever so slightly in the corner, alerting me that Miles wasn't the only one with a keen interest in my interpretation of my fate. Carlisle had, of course, briefed everyone on the empirical facts of my condition, which in all likelihood she'd already seen in her mind's eye. She listened now only to assess my own rendition, to learn how I'd internalized the grim horoscope given by the crystal ball of Carlisle's clipboard. Nothing less was to be expected from Jasper's wife, I supposed.

Meanwhile, Miles' sensitivities remained basic, refreshingly appropriate for a two and a half year-old. His lower lip quivered as he struggled to verbalize his next fear. "W-will you… still be… alive?"

From the moment he'd learned to talk, everyone warned us about the startling bluntness with which children sometimes spoke. Until this point, however, we hadn't heard anything unusually awkward, nothing to give us serious pause before responding. Yet now as I stared into his vulnerable face, caught between my desire to alleviate his fears and my commitment to total honesty, I was dumbstruck. My eyes wandered helplessly to Edward, hoping he'd redeem the situation with the perfect answer. Besides, who better to field the subject than he who would be directly involved in my transformation?

After holding my gaze for a solemn minute, at last he turned to Miles. "Son, your mother isn't going anywhere. She might be a little different, but she and I will love you just as much as we always have. We'll both be here… forever, I promise."

That promise, sealed by the sincerity etched in his features, somehow calmed our own fears as much as Miles'. There was something beautiful about the truth, simple yet profound, that when distilled to a toddler's level resounded all the more with our mature minds. In connecting with the pure, unfettered clarity of a child's optimism, we found more courage than if we'd conquered an entire legion of Volturi guards.

Smiling my gratitude to Edward, I swung my legs over the edge of the table so they hung next to Miles on his stool. "Something Daddy forgot to mention is that you'll have a new little brother or sister in a few months. How does that sound?"

All traces of worry vanished as he sat up enthusiastically. "Really? Where is it now?"

I placed both hands on my stomach. "Inside Mommy's tummy. But it has to grow bigger before we can meet him or her."

"Oh. How did it get in there?"

His anxiety may have passed, but his quest for candid answers certainly hadn't. Despite himself, Edward chuckled softly; we both knew this one was all mine. "Well, it…" I glanced furtively at Edward, seeking inspiration from the master of toddler communication. Arms crossed smugly, he was suppressing a smile as he pretended to look out the window. "It, um, just came along one day… that's what happens when people are married. It's a wonderful surprise," I tried to give my words as much effortless authority as Edward would have, but it felt hopelessly contrived.

"I like surprises," he bit the last of his popsicle as if to punctuate his final statement on the matter.

Just like Miles to switch from prodigious questions one minute to common childhood innocence the next. Keeping up with the tidal rhythms of his personality often left us beside ourselves, yet something about this instance struck me more poignantly than usual. How circumstances gained perspective upon seeing a child – whose very source of identity, security and existence is defined by his parents – accept a situation that afflicts that sacred source. If he was unfazed by the approaching storm, what kept us from welcoming it as he did, as a surprise to be celebrated without reservation?

Similar thoughts must have been turning in Edward's mind, judging by the contemplative expression I found when glancing in his direction. Even a century-old being wasn't unaffected by the wisdom of one who wasn't yet three.

"So do we," he stated quietly, squeezing my hand once more. What I saw indicated his sincerity matched Miles' as faithfully as the moment would allow.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Carlisle's predictions proved to be correct, but hardly accurate.

Reality magnified them by factors not even he could have estimated.

It was a gradual decay initially, a smoothly sloping decline into hell. The weeks immediately following Carlisle's consultation brought a subtle yet steadily mounting weakness in my legs until it felt as though I hadn't walked in months. Despite the dizziness that speckled my vision whenever I stood up, I tried vainly to resist the Cullens' incessant offers to carry me from room to room. Naturally, they prevailed, but it wasn't until the leg cramps began that I ceased protesting.

Painkillers did an average job of dulling the pain, only because higher doses were precluded by the existing strain on my liver and kidneys. When the headaches started, what little analgesic my bloodstream could spare had limited effect, and I eventually lost track of who laid alternating warm and cold washcloths on my forehead each hour. Water and perspiration formed a barrier that scrambled all incoming messages and blocked any attempts at outgoing ones. A lucid mind might have seen it as a blessing in disguise, keeping me from sharing the details of the hallucinogenic visions and nightmares that plagued every hour of an existence that no longer knew the distinction of hours. Night and day became concepts as alien as they were obsolete; the passage of time, as it lapsed for me now, was marked only by a hammering pulse racing toward an explosive crescendo.

As I dipped beneath the gently lapping waves of sanity, my caretakers' identities grew indistinguishable until I recognized only two entities at large: myself and that which was not myself. Or, in moments of sporadic clarity, that which was broken and that which was whole. The notion of the non-self entity being anthropologically similar to me dimmed to the point where, adrift in my isolated suffering, the line between it and God essentially dissolved. What my feverish mind couldn't understand was what God was doing in the ninth circle of hell.

My descent seemed all but complete when a voice, something from the non-self sphere of wholeness, managed to pierce the layers in which I'd wrapped myself to dissociate the pain. It was deep, thicker than what usually filtered through my ears in incoherent bits. And unlike those other sounds, it seemed to be directed at me, as if expecting my full attention and possibly a response. Groaning, I forced my blue eyelids open to discover a face that jolted my heart beyond its irregular palpitations, though I couldn't quite determine why.

"Bella?" the mouth seemed slightly out of sync with the voice, but I tried to ignore the incongruity. The lightest touch registered on my scalp, trailing from front to back in a rhythmic pattern. "I know it's hard, but please try to listen, Bella."

Before I could even attempt to process the words, something squirmed inside my stomach, a familiar sensation yet mysterious nonetheless. Maybe the voice would remind me what it was if I listened.

"You won't have to suffer much longer," it continued. "Carlisle's going to sedate you. He's formulated a tranquilizer that's safe for you and the baby."

The baby – that's what it was. One of my arms wandered sluggishly to where I'd felt the movement and I mentally gasped at the bulge I encountered. What little remained of my hold on reality insisted this wasn't right, that I shouldn't already be feeling a basketball under my shirt. Roaming the globe with an incredulous palm, I covered every angle to ensure it was in fact attached to my body. A series of fluttering movements followed my hand as if to dispel any doubt.

My final thoughts before something sharp pricked my inner elbow were to lament the loss of so many months. How severe my delirium must be if almost nine months had passed in what felt like half the time. At least the blackness into which I sank spared me from any further self-deprecation.

Whether it was hours, days, or weeks later when the blackness lifted, I had no way of knowing. What I did know was that the haze in which I'd previously been suspended had vanished – and in its place was something so astonishingly torturous, so inhumanly crippling as it seared through what was left of my body, that even the expression of anguish was absorbed by its power. Not even the faintest whimper was allowed to interrupt the ceremonious immolation of my soul.

The silence deepened when the last internal sounds grew fainter, more muffled as the climax approached. With eyes open but utterly unseeing, I strained to hear the next heartbeat, to cherish what little remained of my humanity. Any background noise was muted by the deafening wait for one more gush through the canals of my inner ear.

By the time I declared the sound extinct, realization struck that I hadn't breathed in well over ten minutes.

Voices were now audible, distant and unintelligible, but becoming gradually clearer. Though they were hushed, there was no masking their excitement. It pulsed around me like an electrical current that threatened to spark at any minute. And it seemed to be growing in inverse proportion to the pain receding from my core and limbs, as if the intimate stages of my transformation were public knowledge. I decided it was time to face my captive and curious audience.

Three things registered as I brought myself up from a supine position. First was the almost involuntary ease with which I moved, as fluid and effortless as pointing a finger. Tied to that was seeing no trace of swelling between my hips, where I distinctly remembered there being a large mass not long ago.

Second was the crowd gathered on the opposite side of the room – but most significantly, the infant held by the one I recognized as Edward. Tiny fists curled against Edward's chest, it stared at me. It stared at me with eyes so red they could have set the house afire.

Third was the certainty that I would see an identical hue in any mirror I chose.


	3. Chapter 3: Transition

**Chapter 3 – Transition**

**Bella**

I'd sat on the Cullens' back porch dozens of times, idly kicking the swing back and forth as Edward and I watched squirrels dodging through the pine tree boughs. During my first two pregnancies, few other options existed for convening with nature when an overly protective husband eschewed excursions for fear of early labor. That was one concern that was sure to never return – much like my ability to see those squirrels as cute and cuddly instead of mouthwatering.

Edward saw no better place to initiate practice than our own back yard. Starting small wasn't the most flavorful of choices, he conceded, but it was the surest route to self-mastery without clipping corners. With two mostly-human children inside, we needed to be expedient in reuniting them – safely – to their mother, whose company they hadn't been able to enjoy in some time. That was to say nothing of their newest sibling, whose gender and name constituted the full extent of my acquaintance: a boy named Damien.

Yet as much as my heart ached to see them, the desire to satiate my newfound thirst was equally intense.

Part of my training was to communicate every sensation, verbalizing each experience as a way of asserting control over it. My best description for the thirst was an internal sunburn lining every organ, begging for the sweet relief of aloe to pour down my throat in the form of blood. But unlike a sunburn, no preventative measures kept it from returning, and no amount of "aloe" could ever fully heal it. It was a constant companion, never letting its presence be forgotten for a minute. Even at its dullest level, there was no entertaining the thought that I was human again, or somehow more human than when it raged full force through my fossilized veins.

There were no shades of gray here. There was no question what I was now. For the first few days, a voice cried out pitifully from the embers of my soul, begging for the charade to end. Yet as I drifted through twenty-four hours awake, then forty-eight, and finally seventy-two, the voice was cast out like a boat vanishing below the horizon, swallowed by whatever lay beyond the edge of the world.

That world looked alarmingly different now. Each of my five senses felt stripped of their sheathing, exposed to a rawness that made me afraid to move. Colors glowed almost neon before my eyes. I saw the subtle pulse of chlorophyll within maple leaves, the faintest trace of infrared heat deposited in a fox's fresh paw prints. I found the animal's scent as easily traceable as wafting popcorn – and no less delicious when I indulged in its red-orange fur, captivated by my fingers' sensitivity while stroking the pelt. It was an explosive synthesis of power, pleasure, and relief unlike anything I'd ever imagined.

To think this was what Edward felt each time was sobering. To think this was what he'd had to repress around me from the very beginning… ever since that fateful day six years ago…

That constituted the bright spot in this alien world, an unlikely sun in the form of a stone-cold man. What love and esteem I'd held for him in the past now seemed embarrassingly inadequate. Of course I'd believed him when he said resisting me was torturous, but without enduring it myself, I had no way of offering total empathy. Now, plunged into the same breathtaking pain he'd known for nearly a century, only now could I fully appreciate his sacrifice. It rendered me more speechless than everything else combined.

My appreciation didn't end there. Without his guiding presence day and night, I might have easily devolved into the feral newborn we all abhorred. No Cullen was any less qualified to mentor me than another; in fact, one could argue Jasper's expertise made him a better candidate than Edward. Yet I was convinced that under anyone else's wing, even one as deft as Jasper's, my progress would've only been half what it currently was. When it came to crossing the newborn minefield, with each step alternately bringing fear, elation, and all manner of emotions magnified far beyond normal thresholds, I didn't stand a chance with anyone else. Edward offered the one thing none of them could – an emotional anchor that tethered me just enough to reality to keep me from screaming.

Thankfully, the urge to do so was gradually waning, but it was Edward who realized before I did. If not for our honest conversation one morning – after Edward returning from one of his overnight visits with the children – months might have passed before I realized my own progress.

That day, the sun decided to grace us with its presence for the first time in what felt like a month – although the absence of normal sleep-wake cycles likely exaggerated my perception of time. In any case, it was the first day I witnessed my own skin sparkling alongside Edward's as we sat in our meadow. It startled me, not only in its suddenness and novelty, but because I associated its beauty exclusively with Edward. To see it elsewhere, no less on my own limbs, felt as blasphemous as wearing a fur coat I'd bought with stolen money.

Edward's chuckle distracted me momentarily, and I angled my head toward him while still staring my appendages down. "What…?" I muttered.

"You look alarmed," he sounded amused, but with an undertone of compassion.

"Well, it's just... this is the first time, you know… _this_ has happened," I flexed my knees, feeling utterly foolish and knowing my cheeks would normally be turning crimson. At least that was one less foible to worry about now.

"Yes, and?"

"It's too pretty," I whispered.

"Too pretty? Would you rather it was swamp green?" he laughed.

"No…" tugging at the hem of my dress self-consciously, I turned to him. "How long did it take you to get used to?"

He paused thoughtfully, surprised by my question and the unbidden memories it brought. "It's been so long, I hardly remember. Probably because it was the least of my concerns during my… initiation."

I understood the painful edge behind his words. His transformation hadn't occurred at the hand of a soul mate whose intimate connection eased the process. While Carlisle's motives were good and blameless, they weren't always enough to buoy Edward above the crashing waves of inner turmoil. Even as a father figure, there was a limit to how deeply his influence reached, a limitation neither was more acutely aware of than during Edward's desultory years.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid of me to ask. It really is a trivial thing," I swatted my legs dismissively, hoping to plug the dam of memories that was obviously flooding him. From the look I caught out of the corner of my eye, I only half succeeded.

"No, I'm glad it isn't trivial for you. I'm glad this is uncomplicated for you, that your new appearance occupies you more than anything else right now."

It was said without bitterness and with genuine benevolence. Beyond the touching sentiment, however, something else occurred to me, and I hoped my next question wouldn't lead to further discomfort on his part.

"Are you saying I'm doing well?" I asked softly, timidly as I plucked a few blades of grass and began braiding them.

I dared not anticipate his answer. As it was, I considered myself a mediocre student at best. I imagined him dreading this question and being forced to admit the awful truth: that it would be months, possibly even years before I'd be able to rejoin our children. That they'd be nearly as unrecognizable to me as I was to them, with no way of fully restoring our lost bond. That I had demonstrated poor control over my faculties and he may have no choice but to recruit Jasper after all…

Already convinced of what I'd hear, Edward's response almost didn't register. "You have no idea."

He sounded… guilty, strangely enough. Jerking my head up, I found him regarding me with shameful eyes. What on earth did _he_ have to be ashamed about? _I_ was the one about to receive humiliating news about my progress, or the pathetic lack thereof.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked cautiously.

He shifted uncomfortably. It must be worse than I thought.

"I haven't been completely honest with you."

My heart sank, my worst fears manifested. "That's what I was afraid of…"

"It's not what you think. I'm sorry… I've been so selfish," he shook his head, adding to my confusion. "Bella, you've been ready for over a week now. I didn't tell you because I wanted you to myself a while longer."

All I could do was stare blankly at him, dumbstruck; my silence opened a window for him to further confess. "Truth be told, I thought it would take you longer to adjust. But you're a natural, if that's even the right word," he smirked before turning solemn again. "I'd expected more time with you, and when I realized it would be cut short, I… decided to keep you in the dark."

I'd never heard remorse so thick in his voice as I did now. Yet as he sat slumped in disgrace, anger was the farthest emotion from my mind. Instead of resentment, I felt awe – not only that I'd inexplicably surpassed everyone's expectations, but that some traits had survived the crucible of my transformation, including my excessive humility. A few pieces of the old Bella still remained, which was almost as thrilling as having cleared my rite of passage.

Edward still mistook my silence for resentment and kept pleading his case. "If you only knew how the last few months were for me, watching you suffer while I stood helplessly by… having to face Miles and Ivy each day with my own strength draining. Even knowing how it would resolve itself in the end, it was still agonizing. For all of us," he grasped my hand. "Now that you're here, whole again, there are times it doesn't feel real and I have to pinch myself. Some days I still can't believe it."

"Sometimes I can't either," I said quietly. The sight of our glittering fingers entwined was surreal, spellbinding.

"Then can you forgive me?"

"Of course I can. Although, I'm a little curious how long you'd have kept me out here if I hadn't asked," I raised an eyebrow.

Relieved at my merciful spirit, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he cocked a mischievous smile. "Guess we'll never know, will we?"

I swatted his arm and was pleased by his wide-eyed reaction. "That's going to take some getting used to – feeling you hit like Emmett," he rubbed the spot in mock injury.

"All the more reason for you to be honest with me from now on," I crossed my arms defiantly. "You better not have planned to keep me away much longer. If I find out it would've been months or _years_…"

"Years? Seriously, Bella," he interrupted, laughing incredulously. "I don't know why you're so upset anyway… Rosalie & Emmett would've gladly stepped in. It's not like the kids would grow up orphans," he tried to conceal his laughter, but the corners of his eyes betrayed him.

"Very funny."

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically. "I probably shouldn't joke about that, not when you've been away from them for nearly a month… and especially since you haven't met one of them yet."

With the pressure of training gone, I could finally embrace the anticipation of our reunion without feeling like I was putting the cart before the horse. Until now, focusing on them would have only stunted my progress by making me dwell on the prize, constricting my ability to ever achieve it. A landslide of emotions now quaked to life as I pondered what – and who – had been patiently waiting for me at home.


	4. Chapter 4: Confessions

**Chapter 4 – Confessions**

**Bella**

"Tell me about Damien," I urged, elated at being psychologically free to discuss him at last.

Shrugging slightly, Edward smiled, but this time it was genuine. "He looks more like you than Miles does. Other than that, you can probably guess the rest. You saw his eyes," he paused to gauge my reaction. "Let's just say it's a moot point that you can't breastfeed anymore."

I nodded, taking the news in stride. It was nothing less than I'd expected. "Is he… safe? I mean, are Miles and Ivy safe around him?"

He chuckled to himself. "They couldn't be safer. None of us have seen any aggression, nothing. It's like he senses they're his siblings and knows better."

"That's amazing."

"It really is. Maybe he inherited more from you than just looks. We might have another 'natural' on our hands," he winked.

Though I grinned at his comment, another question soon came to mind. "Edward, were Miles and Ivy scared?"

"You mean when you were…" he trailed off, not needing to state the obvious; I simply nodded. Raising his eyes across the field, private memories danced before them. "They were… confused for the first couple weeks. They kept asking where you were, why you weren't playing games with us or taking them to the grocery store as usual. Apparently it isn't as _nearly_ much fun to be pushed around in the shopping cart by Daddy," he tried to break the tension with another joke. I appreciated the effort but sensed he might be using it to hide something else.

"What about after the first few weeks?" I hesitated to ask.

My suspicions were confirmed when he hesitated as well. If he wasn't careful, he'd cause my earlier anxiety to return tenfold.

"I suppose if I don't tell you, Alice or Esme will," he sighed. "Once Miles started to realize you were sick, he had trouble falling asleep at night. Ivy's too young to fully understand, but she still picked up his mood. Bella, it broke my heart," he blinked as if holding back tears. "Every other night, I'd hear them crying in their beds. They tried to be quiet but of course I still heard them," he swallowed. "Everyone did."

Experiencing emotions as acutely as I did now, yet stripped of my ability to release tears, I feared my silent heart would tear itself apart. Finding myself without a physiological outlet for grief, I clenched my jaw as tightly as it allowed. A faint grinding sound reached my ears.

"No matter how much I tried comforting them, their thoughts were never peaceful. I'm sorry you have to hear this, but you need to know what to expect when you return… what sort of baggage we'll have to deal with."

"Kids are resilient," I forced an optimistic smile. "They bounce back pretty quickly, as long as nothing else reinforces their fear."

His guarded expression alarmed me. "There's nothing else, is there?" my eyes widened.

When he rested his face in his hands, I knew the worst hadn't yet been revealed. "I don't know if I can say it."

Maternal instincts surged to new levels. "Is either of them hurt? Were you lying about Damien being safe?" Why he would lie about that, I didn't know, but it was the first insecurity to strike.

"No, I promise they're all fine… physically," he amended.

"You're scaring me. Stop talking in riddles and just tell me, please," I begged.

Dropping his hands, his eyes remained closed as he gathered his thoughts. His reluctance was palpable, frightening me more with each passing second. Part of me wanted to believe his concern was unwarranted, exaggerated by his – _their_ – recent ordeal. Yet no sooner did I hope this when he spoke.

"He… _saw_ you."

So much for stopping the riddles. "What? Who saw me? When?" My emotional scales tipped slightly toward irritation now.

"Miles," he said flatly, then shuddered. "Right after I had…" he shuddered again.

Impatient though I was, it suddenly occurred to me that if our positions were reversed, I'd respond best to patience and understanding. Whatever it was that plagued his conscience, demanding immediate disclosure likely wouldn't help. I shifted myself closer to him, wildflowers bending at my knees as I laid a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flickered open in response. And I sensed the defining moment was at hand.

"Bella, he saw you… convulsing," he choked out.

Oh… oh, no…

He saw the horror in my eyes and rushed to explain. "Everything was in turmoil. Carlisle had just delivered Damien and he was rushing to clean up the blood… everyone wanted to see the baby and they weren't paying full attention to the kids. In the midst of everything, I stepped in to do the task I'd been asked to – the one you only wanted _me_ to perform," he said gravely.

"By the time I stood and looked around, everyone was in the hallway, clustered around Carlisle. Miles was just standing in the doorway, mouth open, staring. I… I don't know how much he saw before that…" the words caught in his throat.

"Oh Edward," I gasped.

His eyes clenched shut again. "He ran off after that. I found him and tried talking to him, but he avoided my eyes and wouldn't speak. It wasn't until he saw you in the back yard from the kitchen window last month that he started acting like himself again."

No words could capture my distress. Our poor son…

"It was an accident, a foolish, foolish slip of attention, and it's haunted me ever since. The way he looked at me up until a month ago… he thought I'd killed you," his face contorted in misery. "He thought it with as much fear and certainty as a three-year-old can."

I couldn't tell which was worse, Miles' trauma or Edward's anguish over it. Imagining the damage inflicted on my son's innocent mind was bad enough, but my husband's inability to forgive himself was no less unpleasant. However we planned to resolve things, we didn't stand a chance if he failed to pull himself out of this self-loathing quicksand.

Gathering my shattered thoughts, I shifted my arm to span both his shoulders now. "Edward, listen to me. This is tragic, without a doubt. But you need to know it isn't your fault. I don't blame you."

"How can you not?" he turned his face, ashamed to meet my compassionate gaze.

"You only have one pair of eyes. You were doing what needed to be done, _when_ it needed to be done. After Carlisle, you had the most important job that day, and you did it. I'm forever grateful for that, regardless of whatever else happened."

"I may not have two sets of eyes, but I _do_ have vampire instincts. I should have sensed he was there, or at least paused to make sure he wasn't around before I…"

"Hold it right there. If you want to blame anyone, blame Rosalie. Or Alice. Or Jasper, Emmett, or Esme. Basically anyone except Carlisle, who had his hands full. There were five other pairs of eyes, five hyper-observant vampires who didn't see Miles either. At least _you_ had a valid excuse."

Inclined as he'd always been to view things through an objective lens, I knew it was only a matter of time before he recognized the wisdom of my words. Judging by the slightest angling of his head, I could already tell he was beginning to find consolation in them. Yet before total absolution could occur, he raised one last concern.

"Do you blame them, then?" he asked, expression drawn in uncertainty.

"No," I met his eyes in earnest. "I only pointed them out so you'd stop blaming yourself. I don't blame anyone, Edward. I understand. It was a crazy situation. Besides, how will blaming someone make dealing with Miles any easier?"

He didn't immediately answer, but I sensed him releasing what was left of his guilt. "It won't. But speaking of which, how do you propose we handle it? Considering he still won't talk to me about what he saw?"

Admittedly, my eagerness to return home wasn't what it had been fifteen minutes ago, and it might not return even after mapping our approach. But if anything was certain after four years of marriage, it was that I wanted no other at my side to face such a challenge. No matter how daunting the task, I could always confront it fearlessly, knowing I was one-half of a team who was greater than the sum of their parts. And with immortality would come endless lessons to raise my wisdom level to Edward's, leaving even less reason to doubt our counsel.

"I think the best place to figure that out is at home. We can theorize out here all day but get nowhere," I sated. "The sooner we're back in our normal environment, our comfort zone, the sooner we can all heal from what's happened. Each minute we spend here is another minute Miles needs us."

Not another word needed to be said. As we rose together from the warm, safe nest of wildflowers, their tender stalks brushed lightly against our legs in fond farewell. They resented us not for abandoning them, knowing what cause compelled us to leave their sunny oasis. Quietly watching us disappear into the shadows beyond, they seemed to wish me good fortune with this, my initiation into a life that was sure to be as incredible as it was rewarding.


	5. Chapter 5: Reunion

**Chapter 5 – Reunion **

**Edward**

Twilight was descending as I paced outside Miles' bedroom door. Through the ceiling-high window at the end of the hall, rust and amber tinged the forest as evening slowly advanced, but its beauty fell on unseeing eyes. With all my energy focused on trying _not_ to focus on the conversation behind the door, little was left for appreciating natural aesthetics.

Bella had entered that room exactly thirty minutes ago, and approximately three hours after being welcomed home like a war hero. I'd virtually disappeared alongside my wife then, whose company was never half as coveted as it had been this afternoon. Yet I'd smiled stoically, proudly silent as she basked in our family's adoration.

I'd been silent then because it was her moment, unequivocally and undisputedly. And I was silent now because, again, her presence was preferred to mine – albeit for different reasons.

It would have taken so little effort, no more than is required to blink, to eavesdrop on them. But I had promised them – and myself – to respect their privacy on such a sensitive issue. Recalling Miles' reaction to all my previous communication attempts kept my curiosity at bay anyway. It reminded me that my intervention was neither needed nor desired, and thus should be avoided even at the non-invasive level of eavesdropping.

Still, sulking in some remote corner of the house while Bella coaxed our son out of his frightened shell didn't appeal to me. So I paced, anxiously praying that she would soon exit with a son who no longer regarded me with fear.

Whether or not my prayers were successful would soon be revealed. As the door slowly opened, I stuffed both hands in my pockets and drew a deep breath.

"Edward?" Bella's angelic voice sang from within, "Won't you come in? Somebody wants to see you."

I thought I heard a smile in her invitation, but I still entered cautiously. Perched on the edge of Miles' bed sat Bella, who was indeed trying to temper a smile while holding Damien in her lap. At her feet, surrounded by various action figures and stuffed animals, was Miles. His hands were occupied with a Batman figurine and plush rabbit.

"Miles, tell Daddy what you're doing," Bella encouraged.

Eyes flicking up to me, Miles hesitated a moment, but not out of fear. He seemed excited, animated by my presence.

"This is Daddy, and this is his dinner," he exclaimed, holding up the two toys. Batman suddenly lunged forward and sank his face into the soft furrows of the bunny's neck, accompanied by growling and snarling sound effects.

My eyes widened in astonished amusement as Bella laughed. "I explained everything to him… in ways he can understand, of course," she assured me, bouncing Damien gently. "This little guy helped too. Now Miles knows that he and Ivy are different from the rest of us, and that isn't anything to be afraid of. Right, Miles?"

He concurred by giving Batman a few satisfied smacks following his meal. Crouching down next to him, I held the "dead" rabbit aloft with a smirk. "Daddy doesn't eat rabbits, Miles. They're junk food, like candy or chips. I like to eat bigger animals that taste better."

His eyes lit up, even more excited now. "How big? Like elephants?"

"No, elephants are in Africa," I laughed. "That's too far to go to eat something. I… Mommy and I eat things that live around here, like wolves and bears." I was still adjusting to speaking for Bella as well as myself when it came to vampire eating habits.

"Wow," he whispered, looking at me like I was the superhero he was holding. "Bears? You're really strong. Will I be that strong when I grow up?"

"We'll see," I ruffled his hair, shooting Bella a look and muttering under my breath, "I thought you said you'd explained _everything_ to him?"

She shrugged and batted her eyes. "What can I say? I did my best, but I guess nothing can truly crush the dream of being just like Daddy."

I had to admit it was flattering, despite the troublesome implications. Hopefully he wouldn't be too devastated once he realized being "just like Daddy" was out of the question. Until then, I'd just have to play along and humor him.

Just then, both of us heard a faint grumble and looked at each other knowingly. How ironic that discussing my appetite coincided with the return of his.

"Miles, are you hungry?" Nodding sheepishly, he let the toys drop as I raised him onto my shoulders. "Then let's go wake your sister from her nap and go downstairs."

Before heading to Ivy's room, I paused in the doorway to impress my gratitude on Bella. "Thank you," I said, squeezing Miles' calf. "Whatever you did, thank you."

Her caramel eyes smiled in reply. "You're welcome. Any time," she kissed my cheek lightly before I turned to retrieve our daughter from her crib down the hall. Then with Ivy in my arms and Miles locked around my neck, our family paraded into the living room where a sea of smiling faces greeted us.

"Everything's better now?" Esme inquired, though she could see the answer on our beaming faces.

"Yes, Bella worked her magic, and now Miles' only fear is whether or not dinner will be ready soon," I reached up to tickle him in the side.

"I think we can arrange that," she rose and disappeared into the kitchen, prompting the remaining occupants to shift positions to allow us room on one of the couches. Miles and Ivy hopped off within seconds, resuming work on a chunky-pieced puzzle scattered on the coffee table. Everyone watched endearingly while Alice sparked conversation.

"They sure look a lot happier than they did this morning, or any other morning these past few months," she said wistfully. "Bella, I know we've said it a hundred times already, but it's so wonderful to have you back. The house hasn't been the same without you."

Emmett crossed his arms. "I'll say. Do you know how much fun it _isn't_ to referee two toddlers all day long? Well, I guess you do… but everyone's been leaving it to me since apparently, I'm the most imposing. It gets old pretty fast," he elbowed Rosalie, implying she'd led the delegation to put him in charge. All he got in return was an irritated glare.

"Don't listen to him," Carlisle said. "They've been a joy. Even at their worst, it's nothing we couldn't handle."

Huffing, Emmett rolled his eyes. "Have you and I been living in the same house?"

"Don't tell me the mighty Emmett Cullen is afraid of two children under the age of three," Jasper couldn't resist.

"Cut him some slack. One of them won't be under three after tomorrow," Alice giggled. She was right, I suddenly realized – Miles' third birthday _was_ tomorrow. We couldn't have planned Bella's return any better.

Emmett remained defensive. "Hey, I had to keep them away from Damien whenever Alice or Esme fed him. I may not have felt their little kicks and punches, but I sure as heck heard their shrieking. I think my ears are still ringing."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem now," Bella brushed Damien's cheek. "We don't have to keep his food a secret anymore. If they ask, just tell them it's a different type of milk than what they drink."

"But be clear that it's just for him," I quickly added.

"Understood," Carlisle nodded. "We won't mention the other name it goes by, or the details of where it comes from."

"Perfect. Speaking of which, I think it's time for his dinner now too," Bella remarked as Damien began squirming and whimpering.

As I rose to fetch a bottle as I'd done dozens of times before, something made me stop. "Are you okay doing it? Don't feel like you have to," I studied her expression carefully. The last thing I wanted for her was to feel uncomfortable feeding Damien, or to feel rushed into something she needed longer to adjust to. None of us would have blamed her if she didn't feel ready.

She caught my meaning and nodded appreciatively. "It's fine. I'll have to do it sooner or later… it may as well be sooner."

Smiling at her defeatist humor, I returned shortly after to present her with the bottle, warmed slightly by the microwave. Though she tried hiding it, the slightest apprehension crossed her features as she accepted it from me. "Thanks," she mumbled, cautiously leaning Damien back in her arms.

Everyone's thoughts were identical while watching the scene unfold. Each empathized with her, some to a greater or lesser extent than others, but all watched reverently as she adapted to this new facet of motherhood. I knew how thankful she was for Miles and Ivy's humanity; it meant not having to leave her comfort zone or tread too closely to the darker side of our reality. No longer could she enjoy that comfortable distance. It was more present now than ever as Damien filled her arms with urgency, ignorant of his effect on her and blamelessly demanding the only thing he knew.

The only person who could carry her through this moment was herself. All we could do was watch quietly and hope she didn't break down. Yet as I watched, her initial apprehension slowly melted away until all that remained was tender affection. It seemed to deepen as she gazed into his eyes, content now as he sucked on the bottle.

It was only when I leaned in closer that I saw the reason for her peaceful state of mind. Damien's eye color matched hers. Their fire engine red had cooled from a month of vegetarian blood, and they were closer to a mature amber than ever before. This was what Bella had derived maternal inspiration from – a bonding point to connect with him. Identifying with him as an innocent being just trying to grow into his own skin was all she needed. By the time he'd finished the bottle, she was grinning from ear to ear.

"He's less fussy than the other two were," she announced, earning a laugh from us.

"Good job," I leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Once again, you're a natural."

Engrossed as we'd been in Damien, neither of us had noticed Esme summon Miles and Ivy to the dining room to eat. They were nearly finished when we joined them, and Esme insisted it had been no trouble feeding them. Sometimes I wondered what Bella and I would do without this embedded support network, if we'd even know how perform all our parental duties. It was just now occurring to me how privileged we were. Some might even call it spoiled.

But that was such a derogatory term, certainly not one we deserved. Besides, as far as I could tell, the others relished spending time with them, even when it involved less than glamorous activities. The only one for whom that might occasionally be untrue was Rosalie, who still struggled with envy some days. Yet over the past few years, her thoughts had grown steadily less jealous, and I now suspected her reserve to be the result of habit and feeling defined by past behavior. I had yet to share my thoughts on her with Bella, but I would when the time was right.

There were other "thoughts" I wanted to share first, and the minute all three children were in bed, I intended to make them known. The others – with the exception of Emmett, who threw us a lascivious wink – pretended not to notice when we absconded shortly after nine o'clock. With Bella now immortal, we couldn't even hide behind the pretense of sleep. The days of our semi-discreet encounters were over, but if her behavior that night was any indication, she didn't seem to mind.


	6. Chapter 6: Intimacy

**Chapter 6: Intimacy**

**Edward**

Lying in each other's arms, intoxicated by each other's magnetism, it felt like Isle Esme all over again – only a million times better. What I'd once had to orchestrate with caution could now be enjoyed without restraint. How I'd longed for this freedom, the opportunity to exchange the gift of each other fully, without fear of harming her. It was more glorious than I'd ever imagined. A lifetime with Bella, fragile and breakable, would have been enough; an eternity with her as an equal would be pure ecstasy.

I didn't have to ask her opinion of the experience. Satisfaction had her immobilized as she allowed my hands to travel her body.

"Who are you, and what have you done with the old Bella?" I growled in her ear before kissing her neck.

"I could ask you the same question," she exhaled, eyes closed as she arched her neck toward my advances. "I think you saw her last."

"Mm, so I did," I murmured. "Should I submit a missing person report?"

She smiled as much from the joke as the pleasure caressing her skin. "That won't be necessary. She's not completely gone… she might show up from time to time."

I smiled in return, gradually tapering my affections until we lay still once more. After several minutes of contented silence, I propped myself up on one elbow. "Tell me how you did it."

"Did what?"

"How you helped Miles. I'm telling you Bella, he was terrified of me. Then you walk in, spend half an hour playing with his toys, and he's back to his bright, carefree self. What's your secret?"

Placing her hands smugly behind her head, she seemed to be enjoying this. "Maybe it's my new vampire talent, and you'd never understand."

"Oh, is that so?" I raised an eyebrow. "Humor me anyway."

She hesitated momentarily to consider whether or not to keep me in suspense, but eventually decided against it. "Honestly Edward, I'm not sure. I went in with a whole script in mind, to walk him through the basics of what we are and how that relates to what he saw. But I almost felt like it went in one ear and out the other, more or less. Just my presence seemed to affect him more than anything I said."

"So even if I'd told him everything you did, he would've still been inconsolable until he saw you healthy again."

She nodded. "That's all he needed. Children are simple like that, easy to please," she smiled fondly. "Not that he didn't find my explanation incredibly entertaining."

"I'll bet," I laughed. "Do you think he even believed or understood half of it?"

"Maybe the simpler half. He said I'm even prettier than before," she shook her head incredulously. "I think he sees us, especially you, as some sort of superhero," she brushed my nose playfully with her finger.

"Just what I was afraid of," I grimaced. "I'll never get a moment's rest. It'll be, 'Daddy, race up that tree with me on your back!' or 'Daddy, throw Uncle Emmett across the yard!' or, 'Daddy, kill a bear for me!'"

She chuckled at my plight before asking gently, "Wouldn't you do those things if they asked?"

"I guess, except for maybe the last one," I admitted. "It just feels strange having him know already. I didn't plan on telling them until they were older. Maybe it was unrealistic of me, but I thought we could pretend to be 'normal' parents for most of their childhood."

"Are you afraid they'll love us any less for it?"

Miles' reaction proved we had nothing to worry about in that regard; if anything, it seemed his attachment to us would only increase. "I'm more concerned about his expectations growing up. He's too young to understand that he can't ever be like me."

Tracing my jaw lightly, Bella seemed more content than ever. "Don't worry too much about that right now. As long as we reinforce what talents he does have, he'll be all right. And we'll make sure he knows he doesn't have to earn our love or prove anything to us."

I found it hard to believe her words had as little influence over Miles as she claimed. Her wisdom had grown remarkably over the past few years. Motherhood had done nothing but brought out the best in her, enhancing her character in ways that made me more enamored than ever.

"Then my last question is when to tell Ivy and Damien. At the same age?"

She shrugged. "It depends on their personalities. Ivy's a lot quieter than Miles, not as rambunctious or carefree. She might take the news more seriously. And Damien… well, it won't be hard for _him_ to accept, will it? Bottom line is, we'll know when they're ready."

"Miles will probably tell them before we do anyway," I said with a wry smirk.

"Probably," she nudged my shoulder playfully.

Breathing deeply as my worries vanished, I enjoyed a few more minutes with her tucked within my arms before a pitiful, hungry cry reached our ears. Bella looked at me unevenly.

"I fed him last."

"Come on, you're no longer human and you _still_ insist on leaving it to me?" I scoffed.

Scowling, she crossed her arms. "Seems fair to me. You're the one who didn't warn me that he sleeps just like the other two. I expected him to at least be a low-maintenance baby, but _no_."

I laughed. "It's not my fault he inherited that from you. I'd have thought you'd be glad he has a few human features, like the fact that he grows at a normal rate."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I am glad. But you know what else I am?" she tucked both arms behind her head, smirking. "Lazy."

"You're nothing if not honest," I laughed again. "But I suppose if anyone has the right to be lazy, it would be you. You've earned it after last month."

"_Thank_ you," she replied with smug satisfaction.

"Still… I hate to leave you, even for ten minutes," I pleaded, throwing her as mournful a look as I could.

"Fine, let's both go," she compromised, sighing. "It's as good an excuse as any to leave the room. The others probably wonder if they'll even see us within the next twenty-four hours," she winked.

"Hmm, I wouldn't mind if they don't," I planted one last passionate kiss on her lips before pulling myself off the bed. "I'm not opposed to starting a 24-hour timer when we get back."

Exchanging loaded glances as we entered the hallway, neither of us noticed Alice approaching from the other direction. She carried a bottle whose red contents sloshed inside translucent plastic.

"I've got it, you two," she waved a dismissive hand. "Go back to whatever you were doing." Though she tried to keep a straight face, I could see the slightest twitching around her mouth; her thoughts were undoubtedly under Emmett's influence, which you didn't exactly have to be telepathic to infer.

"Thanks Alice, we owe you one," Bella smiled, slipping her arm through mine as we slowly began to turn back toward our room.

"Don't mention it," Alice laid a hand on the doorknob.

We cast her one last grateful glance before reaching for our own doorknob, but just as we were about to grab it, she turned to add an afterthought – or that was the impression she wanted to give. The sudden shield she'd placed around her thoughts meant this was anything but an afterthought.

"Far be it from me to dictate what you two do in there, but whatever happens, make sure you're downstairs and decent by ten thirty tomorrow morning."

"Why?" Bella asked.

My sister looked decidedly impish. "It's a surprise."

I could feel Bella's instant alarm. Alice's surprises were rarely to her liking, and invariably involved distancing Bella far from her comfort zone. "Will I like it?" she gulped.

Alice cocked her head thoughtfully as if considering the appropriate answer. "That's a relative thing, isn't it? You always appreciate my surprises… in the end, anyway. That's all that really matters. So go on, enjoy yourselves. I've got everything covered," she grinned for reassuring effect, but all it did was trigger more concern. Whatever she was hiding this time wasn't as benign as whisking Bella away on some shopping marathon. She might be able to guard her thoughts, but she couldn't stifle my intuition.

"O-kay," Bella said in defeat, knowing it was useless to try to pry anything more out of her. "I guess we'll see you by ten thirty?"

"Right! Have a _great_ night," she winked and disappeared inside Miles' room before we could say another word. We stood in stunned, ambiguous silence for a minute, listening to Miles' cries dissipate with the arrival of sustenance. I then looked down at Bella dubiously.

"I don't know about you, but I suggest we go downstairs well before ten thirty."

"I was thinking the exact same thing," she groaned.


	7. Chapter 7: Scheming

**Chapter 7: Scheming**

**Bella**

Edward had adequately "distracted" me that night, but the morning hours soon progressed and as ten thirty loomed closer, anxiety crept back again. By seven thirty, I couldn't stand it any longer and insisted we go downstairs. The house was unusually quiet, suspiciously so, and although Edward thought it was a little early, I had to believe he was just as anxious to unravel this mystery as I was.

The living room was vacant except for Carlisle, who sat with one ankle resting on his knee while reading the paper. He turned a page, seemingly oblivious to our entrance.

"Morning Dad," Edward greeted, bemused by the situation. We should be hearing Emmett howling triumphantly while playing Jasper on the Xbox, or the high-pitched squeals of our children tearing through the house. Yet the only sound that reached us now was that of the kitchen faucet's gently running water, presumably under Esme's hand.

"Good morning," Carlisle replied without looking up from the paper.

Edward and I both caught the measured flatness in his tone. "Where is everyone?" Edward threw a sideways glance at me.

"You just missed them. Alice and Rosalie left to take the kids for a walk, and Emmett and Jasper went hunting." Still flat, almost monotone, as if reciting lines he'd been instructed to deliver.

"Ah. And I presume they'll all be back within a few hours?"

At last Carlisle raised his eyes above the paper's edge. "Yes, they will."

This was definitely odd. If Carlisle wanted to minimize our suspicions, he could have certainly done better. Something told me he was intentionally communicating beyond his contractual obligation. He may have agreed to follow Alice's script, but she had no control over _how_ he performed it – all the nuances and artistic emphasis he could use.

Leading us to sit across from him, Edward stared through the paper until Carlisle lowered it. "You're blocking me. You obviously know something, but Alice swore you to secrecy."

His resigned sigh answered for him, and Edward smiled bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder whether she's truly sadistic, or if she just needs a more constructive outlet for her energy."

"It could be a little of both," I said dryly.

That earned a quick smile from Carlisle, but it seemed more ironic than anything. Sighing, he folded the paper and laid it on the adjoining cushion. "I wish I could tell you more. What I can say is that what I _do_ know is probably only a fraction of her plan. I'm sure you aren't the only ones being withheld information. She's got something big in store." When his line of vision focused pointedly on me, a faint chill ran down my back.

"My thoughts exactly," Edward grumbled. "I guess all that remains is to wait, and hope we survive whatever comes our way," he nudged me to lighten the mood, to which I rolled my eyes.

Much to our relief, Carlisle provided a welcome distraction by consulting our opinion on a proposed addition to the house. The plans were still in the rough stages and there were at least a dozen sketches strewn across the coffee table. With Damien's arrival, quarters had become somewhat cramped, with Jasper and Alice abdicating their room and furnishing part of the basement as their own. That had necessitated moving several of Carlisle's archived medical journals up to his office, leaving him little room to work. No one had anticipated (as Carlisle explained with a cough) that Edward and I would be quite so fertile, so the need to expand the house blueprint arrived virtually overnight.

We were so engrossed in visualizing the designs that while were selecting our top three, none of us had heard the "family vehicle" – a 15-passenger van purchased shortly after Ivy was born – pull into the driveway. (Emmett had recommended we invest in a refurbished school bus, given our momentum at the time, but we decided against it.) Nor did we hear several pairs of feet discreetly trying to work their way to the back yard. Only when Carlisle finished tucking everything back into his portfolio did we see what was happening beyond the slider doors.

"Looks like they're back," he announced.

From our vantage point, we could see polka-dot patterned table cloths draped over a few card tables. Folding chairs were quickly appearing at each one, thanks to Emmett's effortless movements. As we drew closer to the doors, half a dozen clumps of helium balloons came into view around the fringes of the spectacle, shiny and iridescent with "Happy Birthday!" printed on each.

And in the middle of everything stood Alice, clipboard in hand as she orchestrated this ambush like a seasoned maestro. I stepped onto the deck with measured strides, resting my elbows on the railing before getting her attention. "Alice!"

She whirled around and greeted me with a full grin. "Surprise, surprise! Now you know my little secret, Bella. Another birthday party for Miles!"

"I can see that," I nodded toward the ever-evolving landscape of decorations. "I take it you weren't on a walk earlier… you were out buying last-minute supplies?"

"You caught me again," she placed a hand on her hip.

"Right… but why all the secrecy? It's not like we haven't been through this before." Several times, in fact – Ivy had fallen victim to her grand parties from a young age as well, making us all well accustomed to these extravagant affairs.

"You'll see," spinning away from me, I'd never seen her look as wily as she did then.

I knew in that instant it would be no ordinary birthday party. And I was afraid. Of all the threats and terrors of the vampire world, none petrified me as much as Alice Cullen's plotting. The more convinced she was that I'd enjoy it, the broader she grinned in gleeful anticipation, the more it numbed me with fear.

"Where are the kids?"

"Drawing with chalk on the driveway. Rosalie's with them."

On my way back through the house, Edward and Carlisle had resumed discussing the details of the new addition; neither seemed to notice me exit out the front. There I found Miles and Ivy, squatting in the center of what might be described as an abstract work of art, colors clashing in senseless shapes everywhere I looked. The sun – gracing us with its presence for the second day in a row – made their creation seem even gaudier. Sitting on the porch steps, just within the shade of the awning, was Rosalie with Damien on her lap. Even when I came into view, her mask of ambivalence didn't change.

"I can take him if you want," I offered, seeing him squirm and fidget against her hold.

"It's fine," she replied without looking up.

_Talkative as ever_, I thought to myself. Just another typical Saturday. Pretty much undifferentiated from any other day of the week, really. "Hey you two, what's that you're drawing?" I asked cheerfully.

"That's our house," Miles pointed to a semi-rectilinear blob with misshapen windows. Several stick figures floated around the perimeter. "And that's you, Daddy, Gramma and Grandpa, and everyone else!"

While Ivy babbled about her work, which I interpreted to be some sort of magical playground, I squatted down to admire everything more closely. That, of course, prompted Miles to point out every last detail, making sure I knew the exact identity of each stick figure.

"…and this is Gramma and Grandpa Swan!" he finished by pointing to a car that looked like it had been through a trash compactor.

"That's nice, but why are Grandma and Grandpa driving? Why aren't they standing outside with the others?"

He tucked in his chin while smiling. "Coz they're not here yet."

"Yet?" His choice of words confused me.

"No… they're driving here now."

If I still had blood running through my veins, it would have drained from my neck and face faster than water flushing down a drain. All I could do was stare at him as he picked up a white piece of chalk and merrily scribbled clouds over the house and car.

"Miles, what did you just say?" I lowered my voice, though Rosalie could certainly hear if she chose to.

"Gramma and Grandpa Swan are coming," he repeated matter-of-factly.

Forcing myself to react calmly, for Miles' sake if nothing else, I placed my hand on his shoulder to claim his full attention. "Why do you say that? Did someone tell you they were coming?"

He nodded. "Aunt Alice said so."

I'd kill her.

But not before destroying every single party favor she'd so thoughtfully picked out.

I nearly knocked Edward over in my mad dash to the deck, leaving him to exchange a bewildered look with Carlisle. No doubt my fury was palpable, and I half expected Alice to see me coming, yet her reaction proved she clearly hadn't. Two wide, startled eyes stared at me as I stood inches away.

"Bella… what's the matter?" she had the nerve to feign innocence.

"You of all people should know. Who said you could invite Charlie and Cindy?" I spat. Edward, having sensed the mounting tension, had silently arrived behind me. Carlisle stood several feet off, listening with pensive eyes cast down.

No doubt feeling cornered, Alice glanced between Edward and me several times before frowning. "Damn it. I should've known better than to trust a three-year-old… next time I'll have to use a better bribe than candy, like a slip-n-slide."

"Don't try to be cute or funny. And for future reference, _don't_ bribe any of my children," I glared caustically. "What gives you the right to do this without asking me first? For crying out loud Alice, I _just_ returned from training! Just because I'm back doesn't mean I'm fully adjusted, _or_ that I'm ready to face my father and stepmother like this! Edward and I haven't even discussed what we're going to tell them yet!"

She absorbed my tirade with a nod, crossing her arms nonchalantly. "And how long would it have taken you to make up your mind? Bella, I know you. You're an idealist _and_ a procrastinator, which is a really bad combination. You believe that everything is fine if you don't hear of any conflict. You're a _'no news is good news'_ kind of girl. But that approach isn't always the best. Sometimes you need to be proactive and take a situation by its horns."

Though my mouth instinctively opened to object, it slowly closed when I processed what she was saying and realized it was true. If left to my own devices, I likely would have delayed seeing Charlie and Cindy as long as possible, which would have grown suspicious before long. It was an awkward game to play, and each day that passed only made it easier to remain aloof another day. None of it was fair to Charlie, especially when it involved keeping him from his newest grandson.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, her voice softened. "I knew inviting them would upset you, but I was willing to face that. I'm convinced this is what's best for you, even if you don't realize it right away. I talked it over with everyone else, and they're all in agreement with me."

Carlisle coughed conspicuously. "Well, some more than others," she admitted sarcastically. "But nobody could argue that I see this working out just fine. I see Charlie and Edward embracing, and a warm feeling of understanding all around. Bella, you'll finally have everything you ever wanted – your family close to ours, with no secrets or barriers. Think about it."

What she described was indeed appealing, but I'd doubted its possibility for so long that it existed now only as a myth. Imagining it felt no different from daydreaming about fairies and unicorns. Then again, if _I_ was as mythical a creature as those, what was to stop another myth from coming true?

"I'm sorry, my head feels like it's spinning right now," I shut my eyes, pinching both temples. Edward placed his tall frame against me for support.

"This is quite the ambush, Alice. You say everything will end well, but it's not going to be easy for us – or the Swans," he addressed Alice while rubbing my arms. Though I couldn't see his face, I knew the somber expression he wore. "I have an idea of how to handle it, but I just hope it works as well as it sounds in my head," he sighed.

"It will," Alice vowed. "Just have patience, compassion, and believe in yourselves. And remember, we're all here to help. If any of us can make it easier, just say the word."

"Is it too late to call and say Miles is sick?" I was only half joking.

"Nice try, but I planned for that. As soon as I saw you'd return yesterday, I called to tell them to leave their calendar open today. Then I called this morning and told them it was for Miles' party, and that we're all feeling better than ever," Alice said triumphantly. "They won't believe he fell ill within the last couple hours."

There was no escape then. This was really happening. Somewhere along the winding road that led to our mansion were my father and his new wife. I could see them cruising in Cindy's white hatchback, watching the forest more attentively than necessary to avoid missing their destination. An oversized present sat in the back seat, probably belted in for safe measure. Charlie would be making nervous small talk about his expectations for the renowned and wealthy Dr. Cullen's house – along with an occasional passive-aggressive comment about not previously being invited during Edward and my four years of marriage.

If only he knew how petty and insignificant such thoughts were. It was darkly comical knowing they'd be leaving our company with far greater concerns than house envy and notions of in-law politics. I could almost guarantee those would never trouble him again.

As long as Alice's vision held true, we could at least have faith in the end result. But as Edward held me tightly within the festive arena of folding chairs and balloons, I couldn't help but tremble.


	8. Chapter 8: Anxiety

**Chapter 8: Anxiety**

**Edward**

Not since our last encounter with the Volturi had I seen Bella half as anxious as she was now. Only my wife could face ruthless killers with more bravado than her own flesh and blood. She preferred threats on her life to causing her father distress, a quirk that was both endearing and insane.

It was a mixed blessing when we heard the Swans' vehicle arrive five minutes after Alice's bombshell. It meant Bella would soon be free of stomach-churning anticipation, but it also meant I was out of time to solidify a plan.

Over the years, I'd entertained several scenarios of how this might go down, never sharing them with her for fear of triggering panic. Even after everything we'd been through, this still caused her mild hysteria. It made little sense to me how a woman who'd survived several vampire attacks, been hunted by some of the world's most lethal creatures, and given birth to three of my children could be emotionally undone at the prospect of telling Charlie the truth.

There had to be some unresolved issues, possibly stemming from her childhood being split between two parents. Maybe she thought their connection was still somehow too weak to survive such a shock. Without a more consistent, unbroken history together, she feared their foundation would crack under the massive, unprecedented weight of her revelation. So deep was this fear that a million of Alice's visions couldn't dispel it.

That was my theory, anyway. Whether it was accurate or not was largely irrelevant. All that mattered was bringing Alice's vision to fruition, no matter how long it took or how fraught with angst the process was. While I resented Alice's underhanded approach, I recognized her wisdom, however poorly executed. Bella needed this as just much as Charlie, though neither realized it yet. Today would bring the cathartic release of everything they feared and desperately needed.

Were Bella still human, things would be sharply different. Charlie would demand that she be removed from our den of monsters, where she obviously lived in perpetual danger. He'd scream until his voice disappeared, and she would sob uncontrollably at the tragic irreconcilability of it all. Yet now that she shared our identity, how could he object? She may not be his same sweet Bella _per se_, but she still existed. There was no reversing her condition and nothing to gain by wailing against it. She was different but whole, altered but safer than ever. Hopefully Charlie would prove to be a _'glass-half-full'_ type of person and appreciate that for what it was worth.

Of course, it all hinged on our ability to deliver the news without being lovingly encouraged to commit ourselves to the nearest mental health facility.

We'd find out soon enough. Standing well within the front porch's shade, I kept Bella's hand firmly in mine as we watched two car doors flash open with reflective sunlight. Bright sunlight… _perfect day for breaking the news,_ I thought sardonically.

Then suddenly, inspiration hit me. I squeezed Bella's hand and gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn't have much effect on her alarm.

"I can do most of the talking. You don't have to say a word if you don't want," I whispered.

"Then they'll think _you're_ crazy and _I'm_ brainwashed," she hissed.

"Shh," I glanced at them gingerly embracing Miles and Ivy, mindful of their "brittle bone disease." Rosalie had vanished with Damien inside; no doubt Alice had instructed her to time his debut precisely. Exiting the car to see a baby you didn't even know existed, much less one with sparkling skin, probably wasn't the best way to break the ice after five months.

"You two have gotten so big since Christmas!" Cindy exclaimed in typical grandparent fashion. "Oh, I wish I could pick you up, you're both just so cute!"

"Easy, Cindy," Charlie chuckled, unloading a present from the back. "Don't want any broken bones on the birthday boy's special day."

"Gramma Cindy, come see the party!" Miles grabbed her by the hand, bouncing up and down.

"I will, but first I'm curious to see if your parents are around," she squinted toward the house, unable to see us behind the hanging plants. No doubt the blinding sun helped hide us all the more in the shade. "Surely they wouldn't leave you to run your own party all by yourself!"

Without a word, I pulled Bella back with me toward the door, not making a sound as we watched the four of them follow the walkway up to the steps. Then, seizing a moment when they were looking down at the children, I snapped the storm door open, giving the impression we had just walked through it.

"Charlie, Cindy! Good morning. I see you found the place," I greeted, sliding my arm casually behind Bella.

"Yeah. You're tucked back here pretty good," Charlie threw a glance over his shoulder. "Bet you don't have any problems with nosy neighbors, huh?"

I laughed lightheartedly. "No, can't say that we do," I extended a hand for him to shake, but he pulled me into a hug instead. After he and Cindy finished exchanging hugs with Bella as well, they drew back to assess the house.

"It's a very modern style," Cindy remarked admiringly. "Did you have it built, or was it already here when you moved in?"

"It was built about twenty years ago by a retired architect. Rumor has it he studied under Walter Gropius back in the fifties."

Cindy's eyes lit up at this. As an interior designer, it stood to reason she was familiar with architectural art history. "You don't say! How marvelous," she shook her head in wonder as we walked inside. Meanwhile, Charlie's thoughts were taking an increasingly jealous slant, which sadly didn't surprise me.

"We just call it home," I shrugged humbly. "It gives Carlisle the peace and quiet he needs after a long day at the hospital."

"I'll bet," Cindy averred. "What gorgeous light fills the rooms… Bella, you never mentioned what a palace you live in!"

"Sorry," Bella sounded as self-conscious as ever. Her new invincibility hadn't entirely sunk in yet, it appeared. Then again, it might not ever, at least not when her parents were involved.

"Oh, we forgive you," Cindy patted her on the shoulder. "Bella, you've been working out," she said, taken aback by how solid she felt to the touch. "How do you find the time with two little ones?"

Bella flashed me a worried look but managed to quickly stifle it. "Um, well, I guess with so many others helping out around the house, it's not so difficult."

"Sounds like you've got it pretty good here, Bells. A really charmed life," Charlie commented, partially heartfelt and partially bitter. _Poor guy_, I thought. _He shouldn't feel inferior. It's not apples to apples… we have a dozen lifetimes of fortune to our name._

"Well, shall we head to the party? I see some pretty fancy decorations back there," Cindy animated her voice to appeal to Miles and Ivy, who responded with squeals.

I didn't need to look at Bella to know she wanted to talk first. "We'll be out in a minute," I smiled politely. "Go ahead and take the kids back. Everyone should be out there already, or will be shortly."

We waited until the slider shut behind them before facing each other. "Edward, it's the sunniest day of the year so far!" she cried. "How on earth are we supposed to just walk out there?"

"See for yourself," I nodded toward the back yard. Several tall, wide-brimmed sombrero hats could be seen bobbing and ducking under a large white party tent. "Alice thinks of everything, don't worry."

"Sombreros? _Really?_"

"Whatever works. It may not be a typical party theme for a family as white as ours, but I doubt Charlie and Cindy mind. They know we're a little… different," I added with a smirk.

She snorted in exasperation. "How can you be so calm right now? My head's about to explode, and you're joking around like it's a day at the park!"

"I don't mean any disrespect, Bella. I understand your apprehension, but we can't waste this opportunity. Think how it will be when this is finally over. No more lying to them. No more making up alibis when it's too sunny for me to join family gatherings. And most of all, fully opening their relationship with their grandchildren," I peered deeply into her eyes, immediately seeing the effect my words had. She wanted that freedom. If only she'd realize that she wanted it more than she feared the struggle to obtain it.

"What if that perfect future doesn't happen, Edward? Alice's visions are dependent on fleeting choices… what if you or I say something wrong, deviate from the script we're supposed to say? What if we sabotage everything? Do you realize how precarious this all is?" her voice cracked.

"I know," I said softly. "I know what's at risk. But I also know what we have to gain. The way I see it, we can't continue living like this. We need to at least try."

"Edward, I –"

"Come on," I gently encouraged, guiding her toward the deck with steady strides. "You'll be glad in the end. I promise." She drew a sharp breath as I slid open the glass, exposing the pleasant sounds of the party. "We couldn't ask for a better way for this to happen, Bella. You're surrounded by everyone you love. You aren't facing it alone. Take courage and strength from that."

If she wanted to object further, she bit her tongue in spite of it. I crushed her against me in a final hug, trying to infuse her with the bold, irrational confidence I felt. Somehow I knew, with the same certainty that Miles, Ivy and Damien were my children, that something truly great laid beyond our current trepidation. Life's richest rewards were born from moments like these. As I released her from my arms, I prayed she would find the same faith she'd generously instilled in me years ago, when we first discovered a new member would be added to our family – one we'd eventually come to know as Miles.

We donned the two remaining sombreros slouched against the door and, hand in hand, surrendered ourselves to fate, ready to plunge headfirst into its deepest end.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"You've outdone yourselves, Carlisle and Esme," Cindy leaned back in her chair contentedly, pushing away an empty paper plate. "Everything is delicious."

"Thank you, but we can't take all the credit," Esme demurred. "Alice is the master planner. We just follow her lead."

Charlie groaned as he tossed away another watermelon rind. "Then I know who to blame for this stomach ache."

"You have no one to blame but yourself. Nobody forced you to eat four helpings of potato salad," Cindy chided him.

"Hope you saved room for cake," twirling one of the tassels dangling from the brim of her sombrero, Alice grinned almost evilly when Charlie moaned in response. _That's it_, I thought, recalling the question I'd posed earlier that morning. _My mind's made up. She's sadistic, no doubt about it._

Unlikely as it seemed, I'd all but lost myself in the festivities, enjoying the banter and pleasant company to the fullest. It wasn't every day we entertained fresh faces, especially ones with such emotional context. Bella hadn't seen nearly enough of them during the past few years, I knew that with shameful certainty. Yet more than that, I found myself connecting with these two humans on a level I didn't entirely understand. Their presence warmed me, jovial and carefree as they watched their grandchildren run gleefully through the yard. It was a foretaste of what awaited us, the total familial fulfillment we'd been denying ourselves all this time.

I was so distracted by these balmy thoughts that I didn't realize Alice had left the table until she was halfway to the house. Jolting out of my seat, my knee hit the table's edge and caused a pitcher of lemonade to topple, yellow liquid rapidly flooding the vinyl tablecloth.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, I'll be right back to clean that up," I frowned at the mess, but couldn't afford to linger another second. I sprinted over to Alice while Bella and the others recoiled to avoid having their laps soaked.

"Alice, are you getting the cake?" I asked urgently.

"Yes…" seeing my semi-desperate expression, she gave me an odd look.

"Let me get it instead."

Sounds of our guests' displeasure caused her to turn toward the tent, pursing her lips. "Want to get out of cleanup duty, huh?"

"No, that's not it, I swear," I pleaded, leaning in as close as our hats allowed. "It's part of my plan to, you know… start this with Charlie and Cindy."

"Ah," she raised an eyebrow appraisingly. "Can't argue with that, but it _is_ rather convenient that I'm left with the paper towels, isn't it?"

"Sorry sis," I offered an apologetic shrug. "Do you want this to work or not? You went to enough trouble to arrange it."

"Fine, you've made your point. Go ahead," she waved toward the house. "And good luck," she added seriously before returning to the tent.

Hopefully the spilled lemonade would keep Bella from noticing my absence – at least until it was too late for her to interfere. What I had planned was anything but modest, so absurdly blatant that no one could possibly see it coming. Until this point, Alice had enjoyed the upper hand, controlling virtually every aspect of this little affair. When I walked back out that door, however, that balance of power would irrevocably shift.

It was my only chance. Sometimes the only way to face a challenge of this magnitude was to defy all convention, laugh in the face of reason and plow into it like a maniac. Sometimes shocking your audience at the very beginning is best, throwing them so completely off-balance that any awkwardness simply implodes on itself.

That was my sincere hope as I exited the house, cake balanced in one hand as I removed my sombrero, letting it fall onto the deck with a soft thud.


	9. Chapter 9: Disclosure

**Chapter 9: Disclosure**

**Edward**

It felt amazing to approach the tent full of unsuspecting family members. As always, the sun's warmth on my skin was invigorating, but that was only a superficial thrill. What excited me most was the unbridled release, the pure and unadulterated rendering of everything I was. It felt like a cast iron mask had been lifted from my face, at last allowing the sweet kiss of air to brush my cheeks. An almost giddy rawness tingled in my limbs. After all this time, I was about to experience my own unique version of "meeting the parents."

Exhilarated as I was, it took deliberate effort to keep my strides even and resist the urge to race across the yard. With each carefully measured step over freshly cut grass, I stared more intently at the faces under the awning, wondering which would be the first to spot me. Would it be our esteemed guests, speechless and horrified? Maybe it would be Bella, equally horrified but for different reasons. I relished the thought of Alice seeing me first, stunned at how deftly I'd turned the tables by shocking her as much as she'd shocked us earlier this morning.

It was anyone's race at this point; they were all more interested in blotting pools of lemonade than keeping watch for the cake. I slowed my pace to ensure I didn't reach the tent's shade before anyone looked up. Nothing would foil this. Even if I had to stand waiting just outside the shade's perimeter until they soaked through a dozen rolls of paper towels, they would notice me.

I nearly laughed at the scene as it unfolded before me. As if they were part of a well-trained cast in some Broadway musical, all their faces turned up within seconds of each other. It was impossible to say whose eyes widened first – or broadest – but there was no mistaking who broke the silence first.

Charlie's eyes pinched shut as he doubled over with laughter, smacking the table with his palm every few seconds. No one said a word as he guffawed and gasped for air. Ironically enough, they found his reaction more fascinating than my display. He'd unwittingly stolen the spotlight that had been mine for all of two seconds.

A few quizzical glances started darting around, but still no one spoke. No doubt they were as thankful he'd broken the tension as they were curious what he was thinking. When at last he began to catch his breath, he had a fairly captive audience.

"Oh – Edward – have pity on an old man," he coughed, wincing as his abdominal muscles relaxed. "W-why on earth would you put on… _body glitter?_" he wheezed.

Patting him on the back, Cindy alternated giving us uncertain looks. "Calm down honey… I think you've had one too many beers," she said in mild embarrassment. With her attention torn between his reaction and my odd appearance, her thoughts were a complete jumble.

The others were apparently recovering from the outburst as well. But in stark contrast to Charlie, their expressions were anything but amused. Each face matched the bewildered thoughts behind it; of no one was this truer than my own wife.

"Well Cindy, even if he is a little drunk, my dad raises a good question: why _are_ you wearing body glitter, Edward?" her tone was heavy with astonishment and accusation. Clearly this wasn't how she planned to broach the subject. Too bad. If she preferred something else, she should've acted first. But we both knew she lacked any sort of defined plan, and that she wasn't objecting as much to mine as to me devising it before she could.

Despite her displeasure, I smiled and placed the cake on the table. "Why don't you come stand next to me, Bella? Without your hat."

She didn't move. The pressure of everyone staring at her, enough to paralyze her by itself, was too much in the present context. Recognizing this, I empathized with her instead of interpreting her reluctance as passive, stubborn resistance. With three steps I was at her side, her hand clasped in mine as I drew her slowly toward the shadow's edge, no struggle now with me guiding her. I sensed she'd finally accepted this moment, accepted the totality of her fate, that our lives would – could – never return to what they were five years ago, six months ago, or even yesterday.

The division between old and new was as clear as the boundary between light and dark that we stepped toward now. As soon as our feet crossed it, I kissed her, lifting the sombrero as our mouths separated. It dropped from my fingers effortlessly.

Charlie and Cindy's expressions were evening out now. His featured a hint of frowning, while hers seemed lighter, as if she might chuckle now. Both stared with mouths partially open, unsure what – if any – questions were appropriate_. Is this some sort of anniversary prank? They're about a month early_, Charlie mused. _It's been a while since I've played around with glitter, but that doesn't quite look like it to me_, Cindy pondered_. I always thought the Cullens were a little strange, but this is entirely too bizarre_… At least they weren't running off screaming. Yet.

"Real cute, you two," Charlie huffed. "I bet that'll be fun to wash off. You'll probably never stop finding flecks of glitter all over the house."

"I don't think we have to worry about that," I replied slyly. "I know this looks odd. But if you don't mind, we'd like to take you inside and talk. There's a lot we need to discuss."

Charlie gave Cindy a skeptical look. "All right… as long as you don't get any of that stuff on us," he warned.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You have my word – no glitter involved."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

As there was no more comfortable a place to sit and talk than the family room, that's where the four of us currently sat, the Swans occupying a loveseat adjacent to our couch. Cindy seemed distracted once again by finding herself inside an architectural wonder, while Charlie continued his mildly smoldering resentment of our wealth. If nothing else, it would be a challenge just to draw them out of their respective preoccupations.

"So you two are enjoying the party?" I began innocuously. Bella simply remained as frozen as a statue at my side.

"Yes, it's wonderful," Cindy enthused. "We love seeing Miles and Ivy. Their joy is just so infectious!"

"It truly is. They love your company too. We know how important it is to have both sets of grandparents in their lives."

Charlie nodded with a thoughtful, serious tint in his eyes. "You're absolutely right, it is important. Edward, may I be honest with you?"

His request caught me off-guard. I should be the one delivering the unexpected side of this conversation, not him. "Of course," I said after a moment.

He paused to gather his thoughts. "I keep in touch with a lot of my buddies from the police academy. Some of them have moved all over, even as far as Alaska. They're a long way from their families, their grandchildren." Drawing a breath, he looked me squarely in the eye. "I'd be lying if I said they saw their grandkids less often than I do. We live not twenty miles apart, yet we only see them three or four times a year."

Concerned by her husband's frankness, Cindy spoke next. "We know you're busy, what with all the vacations and trips you take. What Charlie's saying is that birthdays and holidays seem to be the only times we get together. We want you to feel free to be more spontaneous… and don't worry about our schedules, we can always be creative and flexible," she encouraged.

Bella shifted uneasily, as distressed by their words as I was relieved by them. Although they caused her discomfort, they also provided a perfect transition.

"We appreciate your honesty. Thank you for sharing what's been on your minds." Steadying a final surge of nerves, I met Charlie's gaze squarely. "You may be surprised that we feel the same way. That's actually what we brought you here to discuss."

His eyebrows rose in intrigue. "Really? I'm glad to hear it. Seems like there's been an invisible, awkward wall we couldn't get around before."

"Very perceptive," I mumbled, almost to myself. "We've had our reasons, which we intend to fully explain now. But first, Bella and I need you both to promise us something."

"What's that?" Cindy asked, her curiosity equal to that of a teenager about to tear open the latest gossip magazine.

"Only this: let us finish talking before you respond. Don't jump to any conclusions prematurely, no matter how tempted you may be to do so. It's very important that you listen carefully and patiently."

Both of them nodded after conferring with a brief, silent glance. "We promise," Cindy pledged.

This was it. There was no more stalling. Squeezing Bella's hand such that I would have pulverized the bones if she were human, I began. "Let's start with the basics. I'll ask you a series of 'yes' or 'no' questions… just stick to those two answers for now, all right?" They both nodded in compliance. "First, do either of you know anyone else with my family's eye color?"

They paused to search their memories before shaking their heads.

"And don't you find it strange that we all share the same color, despite not being biologically related?"

Again, a slight pause as they considered this. Cindy felt somewhat foolish for not noticing it before, whereas Charlie had apparently thought we wore matching colored contacts to foster a greater sense of family. Both of them nodded after a moment.

"That's right, it _is_ odd. For a blended family this size to all exhibit such a rare color… well, I'm no statistician, but the chances are pretty narrow. Very strange indeed," I added for emphasis. "Next, I'm sure you remember that I was absent at your wedding three years ago. I don't have to ask if that bothered you. Anyone in your position would've been unhappy. But would you believe me if I told you it was because of my skin?"

Neither quite knew how to respond to that, eyes roaming uncertainly.

"It was sunny just like today. That's why I couldn't attend," I continued. "What you saw outside just now wasn't a joke. We didn't smear ourselves with body glitter. It sounds insane, but that's how our skin reacts to direct sunlight." Rolling up the sleeve on one of my arms, I presented my forearm for them to inspect. "Take a closer look now. It doesn't sparkle when we're inside the house, out of the sun."

Both leaned forward to see for themselves. Charlie frowned at the matte surface, while Cindy swiped her finger across and examined the tip for residual glitter. Finding none, she looked up at us with frightened eyes.

"Are you all right?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "You're not sick, are you? Oh Charlie, we should've known there was a reason all along…" she bemoaned guiltily.

"I told you not to assume anything," I remonstrated. "But no, we're not ill. And before you say anything, I know Bella's skin didn't used to react this way. Please, just be patient and listen." I recollected my thoughts. "Now you know why I've intentionally avoided sunny days; that partially explains our infrequent visits. Another reason is Miles and Ivy. They're… special."

Though she bit her tongue, Cindy was clearly thinking I meant their brittle bone disease. "Have you done any research on brittle bone disease yourselves?" I returned to the yes-or-no format.

Cindy nodded. "A little."

"Did you read anything that indicates children can grow out of it?"

"No," she admitted.

"Yet Carlisle said that Miles and Ivy will. Either he's lying, or they're truly special children, right?"

A little uncertain about this logic, they shrugged their agreement, not knowing what else to suggest.

"That was a trick question. Both conditions are true," I smiled. "Carlisle _was_ lying – about them having the disease in the first place, that is. And the reason he lied is because they _are_ special, so much so that we needed to protect them, until n–"

My speech was interrupted by the piercing cries of a hungry baby echoing from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Charlie and Cindy looked at each other instantly, their thoughts colliding in my mind. _Aren't the children both outside? That doesn't sound like Ivy… it's a much younger baby. Do Miles and Ivy have a cousin we don't know about? Why did nobody tell us?_

"Are we allowed to ask what _that_ is?" Charlie provoked. "Or do we need to pass another round of 'yes or no' first?"

Whether we liked it or not, Damien had forced our hand. Introducing him couldn't be delayed any longer, even though I'd hoped to gradually build up to it. Bella, meanwhile, surprised me by speaking up.

"That's your newest grandson," she stated proudly. "His name is Damien."

Cindy and Charlie's shocked expressions were identical. "When was he born? We didn't even know you were… when we saw you at Christmas… you didn't look pregnant," Cindy sputtered.

"Didn't act like it either," Charlie remarked. "You were at the punch bowl every other time I turned around."

Glancing at me for validation, Bella squared her shoulders upon seeing me nod. She was through sitting on the sidelines. Fully owning the situation now, she summoned the indomitable strength I'd proudly seen her wield many times before.

"I wasn't pregnant at Christmas," she said bluntly. _More accurately, we didn't know she was barely one week pregnant at Christmas,_ I reflected.

Charlie's mouth hung open in stupefaction. "_What?_ It's barely been five months, how is that poss–"

"Come upstairs with us," Bella commanded, bringing me to stand up with her. "We need to feed him anyway. Edward, would you please grab a bottle and meet us up there?"

"Certainly," I headed to the kitchen while they tenuously climbed the steps. Maybe meeting Damien now was ideal after all. They'd never suspect him, charmingly innocent at one month old, to deliver our message more clearly than we ever could. He could very well be the key to accepting everything they heard today – and with that we could undoubtedly use all the help we could get.

Rosalie was descending as I headed up, having at last been relieved of her babysitting duty.

"I hope you know what you're doing," was her stale admonishment as we passed each other.

I purposely ignored her cynicism. Bottle in hand, I turned the corner and joined the other three in Damien's nursery. Bella was leaning over the crib, soothing him as best she could while he cried for food. Charlie and Cindy simply stared, utterly speechless, at the child who shouldn't be half this loud and thriving for presumably being four months premature.

"Daddy's here now, he'll make your tummy feel better," Bella said sweetly, lifting him up and handing him to me. Damien greedily latched onto the bottle when I presented it to him. The room was deadly silent for a minute, yet the Swans' misgivings were audible well before either spoke.

"What's in that bottle?" Charlie finally dared to ask. He hadn't taken his eyes off it for a second.

"I'm going to have to ask for your patience again, Charlie," I said respectfully.

Something in my tone kept him from objecting, though he was anything but pacified. He watched in morbid fascination as Damien swallowed the last of the bottle's contents, unsure whether he should feel affection or revulsion based on his mounting suspicions.

"He's a very cute baby," Cindy tried to feign normalcy. "Bella said he's a month old?"

"Yes, almost to the day," I bounced him lightly to burp him over my shoulder, careful to angle the burp cloth away from their line of sight.

The tension was rapidly approaching a boiling point, thickening with each blink of someone's eyes. Our guests were silently hysterical over the child in my arms, torn between awe and wariness. Grandparent instincts told them to rejoice over a new baby to spoil, yet human instinct warned them to give this creature a wide berth, given the peculiar circumstances surrounding his arrival.

I may as well resolve their dilemma. "Would you like to hold him?"

Cindy's maternal instincts reliably prevailed. "Sure," she extended her arms.

"Brace yourself," I advised.

"Why, is his diaper full?"

Laughing briefly, I shook my head. "No, it never is."

She misinterpreted this as sarcastic. "I'll bet," she rolled her eyes, tucking her fingers under Damien's armpits to transfer his possession. I relinquished my hold slowly, incrementally releasing it so his weight didn't overwhelm her at once. Cindy had no way of knowing he was impervious against being dropped; the commotion would derail her if that happened, and we couldn't afford any major distractions right now.

Bella and I watched closely for the first sign of realization to cross her face. We didn't have to wait long. Cindy was a naturally expressive person, seldom able to hold a poker face, and her shock was plainly evident as she strained to hold Damien in mid-air.

"M-my goodness, what are you _feeding_ him?" she gasped.

"My question exactly," Charlie glanced at the empty bottle now resting on the dresser.

Graciously taking Damien off Cindy's hands, Bella cradled him while he sucked his thumb. "Dad, Cindy… that's sort of what we've been leading up to. Everything we've pointed out is related: our eyes and skin, lying about the brittle bone disease, Damien's weight and being born so quickly. There's something about us you don't know," she swallowed thickly, looking at me to deliver the final blow. I wasn't quite ready to, but soon… very soon.

"Would you agree this is all very strange? That it doesn't entirely add up?" I exhorted.

_That's an understatement_, Charlie grumbled to himself. He and Cindy nodded, brows creased with worry.

"Of course it doesn't. Any sane person can see that," I crossed my arms casually. "I'd asked you to refrain from drawing any conclusions up until now, but given everything you've heard and seen so far, I'm curious what your impressions are. Please, tell us what you make of all this."

Suddenly being granted permission to think and speak freely, their scowls deepened upon weighing the scope of information they'd received. Cindy did so cynically, frustrated at being asked to analyze what admittedly didn't add up. Charlie, however, accepted the challenge with grim resolve, eyes narrowing as he retraced the details of our conversation.

If either of them stood to solve this mystery, it was him. Years of police investigations had prepared him well for such a puzzle, to read between the lines, to know which lines were even worth reading between. Yet deductive skill wasn't his only advantage. The man had ample motivation, with his history of mistrusting me for all I'd put Bella through, to face my challenge now. Nothing would satisfy him more than to crack the code, to expose the secret he suspected I'd been hiding all along.

For him it was more than a mere intellectual puzzle – it was the long-awaited opportunity to vindicate all that he'd suffered because of_ her _suffering. Though the hatchet had been buried for a while now, this would prove whether he was ever justified in possessing it.

"If you don't mind, I have some 'yes or no' questions of my own," he declared after several minutes.

"That's only fair. Go ahead."

"Now don't laugh if I'm way off, all right? You've given us a lot to chew on, and I'm doing my best to make sense of it."

"We understand," I assured him. "We won't laugh."

"Okay," he drew a breath. "I'll start simple. Did you invent the brittle bone explanation to keep us from lifting Miles and Ivy? Is it because they weigh more than usual too?"

I knew he was good. "Yes."

With his first suspicion confirmed, he nodded. "Is there anything else about them we should know?"

A loaded question if ever there was one. "Not with Miles and Ivy, no." I didn't want to tip our hand too soon; the more he deduced on his own, the easier it would be for him to swallow.

"All right, next question. Has anyone in your family ever had… work done?"

"What do you mean?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Nips and tucks, Botox, that sort of thing?"

It took a serious effort to keep from laughing as I'd promised. "No, none of us has ever paid a dime for cosmetic procedures or plastic surgery."

_Then what the heck is Esme's secret?_ Cindy pouted, making me smile despite myself.

My answers were obviously affecting Charlie, slowly routing his thought processes to their inevitable destination. I did my best to let him arrive there freely, without scanning his mind to discern his next move. No tricks, not with a situation this pivotal. I knew Bella would appreciate my neutrality.

"Edward, it's clear you don't want to hide anything from us anymore. So I'll just put it all out there," Charlie announced with firm resolve. "Not long after your family moved here several years ago, there were some incidents in the woods. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," I remembered all too well.

"The reports classified them as animal attacks. That was the only label we could reasonably give. But I wasn't the only officer who had misgivings about it," he stared unblinkingly at me. "I'm going to be direct: were any of you involved?"

Keeping the shock from my face was none too easy. It seemed I'd underestimated him to a degree – I didn't expect him to reach this level of insight half as rapidly. "No," I finally answered.

He studied my eyes exactingly, searching for the slightest sign of deception as he must have done countless times throughout his career. "But you know who _was_ involved, don't you," he declared rather than asked.

"Yes."

"Friends of yours?" he crossed his arms.

"No, most definitely not," I said in disgust.

Pressing his lips, he seemed both relieved and perplexed. "Good to hear."

By now, Cindy had heard too much to stay a silent observer any longer. "Charlie, what's this all about? Care to let me in on this inside joke?"

Charlie continued to stare unnervingly at me. Six years of fermented tension were about to burst, I could feel it. We were so close to witnessing it shatter, so wondrously near the point of no return. All Charlie had to do was say it. Just as I'd insisted Bella say it out loud years ago. Surely he must realize it was the final step, the last thin barrier between darkness and light, between uncertainty and disclosure. Unless he said it, this entire conversation was for nothing. It had to be done.

"Billy's told me about you," he said quietly.

"I'm sure he has." I kept my gaze level, not wanting to cause him any alarm. "I'd expect nothing less from him."

"I… never knew what to make of his stories," he confessed. "I love him like a brother, but part of me thought he'd lost his marbles. I've never been a superstitious man. I kept telling myself there had to be another reason why the hair on the back of my neck rose whenever you were around."

"I bet you searched my criminal record," I said with a smirk.

"Sure did. I figured you had a history – drug use, assault, rape, any number of felonies." Bella winced at this but remained stoic at my side. "I only got more confused when your sheet came up clean. It didn't make any sense. Until now," he added grimly.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?" Cindy raised her voice to keep from being ignored again.

Charlie hesitated, glancing between us with his mouth half open. "You wouldn't believe me," he muttered bitterly. "You'd put me in a crazy house."

"_I'll_ be going there myself if you don't tell me! You know I can't stand being out of the loop, and whatever this is, I can tell it's big," she glowered. "And it obviously affects our grandchildren. Just because I haven't been part of this family for long doesn't mean I–"

"We're not human, Cindy."

My calm, understated tone stopped her mid-sentence, just as I hoped it would. Predictably, she frowned even more. "What was that? I'm sure I didn't hear you right."

Charlie's facial muscles froze in place as he watched me. "Actually, I think you did. I said we're not human. Not fully – not by anyone's common standards."

She laughed acerbically. "Oh, really? Then what _are_ you? You sure look human to me."

"Appearances can sometimes be deceiving," I replied as an idea occurred to me. "How about we go back downstairs and look in the fridge?" I invited.

Her face remained petulantly skeptical as we paraded into the kitchen. The only trace of human food was a container of leftover frosting from the cake. Snapping its lid back on as we passed by, I proceeded to open the stainless steel refrigerator and stepped back to grant Cindy an unobstructed view of its contents.

I watched her scan each shelf with increasing confusion, taking in the conspicuous absence of food. Aside from a few jars of pureed baby food, a package of lunchmeat, and some fruits and vegetables in the crisper drawer, the appliance was empty, its starkly white interior almost blinding her.

"Don't tell me you're starving," she whispered in mild shock. "If you can't afford food, you could always sell this house and move into something a little more modest…"

"We're not starving," I assured her. "Now look on the inside of the door."

I knew she hadn't yet spotted the dozen baby bottles nestled there. "More bottles… but none have milk inside of them," she observed.

"As you saw upstairs, Miles doesn't drink milk," Bella stated.

"You have to give him something besides _juice_," she exclaimed. "A baby can't grow on that! You should know better, especially after raising the other two! Have you both lost your minds?"

"Cindy, calm down," Bella reached for her shoulders. "It's not juice."

"Then what is it?"

Bella had done admirably well until this point, withstanding the urge to collapse under all the pressure. But we both knew I had to be the one to speak next. She'd proven her strength today, expending it all to reach this moment. The least I could do was answer this ultimate, pivotal question.

"It's blood."

Charlie's reflexes prevented his wife from hitting the floor when she fainted.


	10. Chapter 10: Deep End

**Chapter 10: Deep End**

**Bella**

**Note: this chapter features limited instances of profanity. Not something I employ often, but if there's ever a chapter that calls for it, it's this one. **

**Also, I stand behind my plotline and don't consider any of it "wrong." If I thought it was wrong I wouldn't be writing it. That would be rather silly, wouldn't it? Seriously silly. :/**

Waiting for Cindy to revive had to be the longest, most awkward three minutes of my life. We promptly transferred her to the couch and sat stiffly around, Charlie rubbing one of her hands, probably glad for the temporary excuse to avoid our eyes. I wasn't sure which was worse, waiting or knowing what would come after the waiting. We'd be lucky if she didn't sprint to the car the moment her eyes opened again.

Fortunately, seeing Charlie's face upon awakening must have calmed her panic. He gently assisted her in sitting up against two pillows. "Easy now, if you need to lie back down you can."

Her eyes were cloudy, struggling to regain focus as she rubbed them. "What happened?" she asked weakly.

"You fainted in the kitchen," Charlie replied. "I caught you before you fell. You weren't out too long, though."

"It still might be a good idea to have Carlisle take a look at her," Edward suggested, causing them to look over at us with a start.

"Y-you said something just before I fainted," Cindy blinked rapidly, the fuzziness retreating from her mind. "You told me those bottles were filled with… blood," visibly repulsed, she spoke as if she could taste the warm, slippery substance on her tongue.

"I did," Edward confirmed. "I'm very sorry it caused you to faint. That certainly wasn't my intent."

Cindy's vitality was returning remarkably quickly. "Then what _did_ you intend? To make me laugh? Because that's the only thing I can figure, that your twisted, juvenile sense of humor was at its best. Well nice job, the joke's on me, _son-in-law!_" she flung the words with all the antipathy she could muster. From the few years I'd known her, I never suspected her capable of such bitter fury.

It hurt Edward, having his honesty misconstrued as a malicious prank. The last reaction he wanted was anger. Terror and horror were acceptable, understandable, and above all, viable. They could be softened with time and patience, disarmed by enough harmless encounters. But anger and resentment were far trickier to dispel. If Cindy persisted in believing that Edward was lying, the family dynamic could suffer in ways we hadn't anticipated – ways that ironically might be worse than having his words accepted at face value.

"Cindy, have I ever demonstrated a 'juvenile' sense of humor before?" he clasped his hands before him. "When was the last time you or anyone else caught me pulling a practical joke?"

She frowned while vainly attempting to recall one instance. "Never, at least not when I've been around," she said reluctantly.

"That's because it isn't like me. I'm not amused or entertained by others' discomfort. Just ask Charlie, he's known me longer than you have," Edward nodded toward him. "He just admitted to having some rather serious concerns about me years ago, but nowhere did he mention my sense of humor being one of them."

Looking dubiously at Charlie, Cindy said nothing when he returned her gaze evenly.

"As impossible as it may seem, I was telling the truth," Edward pressed.

She was now more confused than ever. "I don't understand…" she shook her head, trying to reconcile the many conflicting facts and emotions.

"You've seen our skin. You held Damien and watched him drink that entire bottle. You saw our refrigerator. Cindy," Edward commanded her full attention, "…tell me we're normal human beings. Look me in the eye and deny all the evidence. If I'm not lying, then there's only one rational conclusion. You just have to find the courage to say it."

Though I could tell she wanted to argue further, she forced herself to consider his words and their full implication. It wasn't like her to allow frustration to impede her judgment, and her agitation was most likely the result of feeling embarrassed from fainting. Once she realized, however, that we'd already forgotten that incident, she began thinking clearly.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say. If you're looking for a label, I'm at a loss. Mutants? Aliens? Figments of my imagination?" she threw her hands up in exasperation.

Smiling at her theatrics, Edward shook his head. "Let me make it easy for you: what survives on blood alone?"

The grandfather clock's ticking seemed to fill the room with unnatural rhythm as Cindy processed the question. We watched her own blood drain from her face, too paralyzed to reach for Charlie's hand or race toward the door, which every muscle fiber in her body must have been screaming at her to do.

"It can't be," she whispered, barely moving her lips.

"Everyone grows up thinking that," Edward acknowledged, leaning slightly forward. "That we're nothing more than myths, tales to frighten children with on Halloween. We belong in the same category as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, although not nearly as endearing," he said with an ironic smile. "But you've seen the evidence with your own eyes. You're one of very few people who know the truth – _and_ who will be allowed to live with the knowledge."

Cindy still couldn't move. No doubt she was seriously questioning her sanity, trying to determine whether or not she was dreaming, perhaps unsure if she'd yet woken up from fainting.

"I told you you wouldn't believe me," Charlie muttered.

She looked at him as though he'd become suddenly unrecognizable. "You… _knew_ about this," her voice went up an octave. "All this time, you never cared to tell me? And now here we sit with nowhere to run! _That's_ what I can't believe, Charlie – that you've kept this from me all along, and that you're just going to sit there and let our fate be decided!" she was trembling now, her anger and terror mingling violently.

Before Charlie could respond, I held up my hands imploringly. "Please, leave him out of this, Cindy. Why would he share stories with you he didn't believe himself? You'd have probably sent him to the psych ward if he _did_ believe them. So apparently, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't."

I found her regarding me with even more mistrust than she'd given Charlie. "You're one of them now too, aren't you?" her eyes widened with the explosive revelation.

There was nothing to gain by stalling. I nodded.

Her hands clasped over her mouth, Cindy's stare was profoundly heartbreaking. The watery glaze of tears soon appeared, her shoulders began to shake from bottled anguish, and a single drop trickled down one cheek.

In stark contrast to her openly mournful distress, Charlie's face could have been carved from stone. He stared not at me, not at Edward, but at the space between and beyond us, disengaged from everything. Of some consolation was the absence of the red tide of fury beneath his skin. Yet that could just as easily indicate something worse, a new level of rage so severe that it simply bypassed all the usual mechanisms. If Edward knew my father's state of mind, he did nothing to communicate it to me. He too sat as a statue, albeit with substantially less tension permeating his pores.

By the time Charlie spoke, Cindy had all but withdrawn into herself, face buried in her hands as she continued to sob silently. Whether she wept out of pity for me or out of fear for herself, I couldn't be sure. It was most likely a poignant mixture of both.

"I think the first thing we need to hear is that you won't hurt us," Charlie stated, still looking at an unseen point.

"Never," Edward exhaled. "You have nothing to fear. We're not like the others. We only drink animal blood."

Cindy's weeping gradually tapered off, while Charlie seemed at a loss for words.

"That makes all the difference, doesn't it?" Edward smiled. "As I said before, those responsible for the attacks were no friends of ours. We shared absolutely nothing in common."

Speechless, Charlie was still processing this bombshell when Cindy found her voice again. "But why did you have to change Bella?" she lamented, still utterly distraught.

Edward turned to me, eyes full of compassion. "I did it because I had to," he said gently. "Her last pregnancy left her so weakened, she would have died otherwise. It was either change her or lose her. For me there was only one choice."

Cindy's eyes hadn't yet dried before another wave of tears sprung. Keeping his own emotions tightly controlled, Charlie had once again donned his investigative mask. "Were they the same complications she had with Miles?" he asked suspiciously.

"Worse," Edward dropped his eyes. "Far, far worse. We got lucky with Miles and Ivy. Our luck ran out with Damien."

I swallowed uneasily at the sight of his face growing red now. "I'll say you were lucky," he growled. "Lucky I didn't know the truth before you married my daughter. Lucky I didn't know the truth all the times you impregnated her."

Neither of us spoke, bracing ourselves for everything that followed. "My God Edward, what _are_ our grandchildren? Little monsters? Will they even grow to lead halfway normal lives?" his dark eyes were buried beneath his scowling brow. "Did you ever consider that before getting her pregnant? Of all the things wrong with this picture, and there are plenty, the worst is how your thoughtlessness impacts the future those kids will have."

Stung by Charlie's words, Edward clenched his jaw. He'd been prepared to defend my transformation, but having the three beautiful lives we'd created summarily cast as mistakes or monstrosities was too much.

"First of all, Edward didn't even know he could father children," I spoke up. "We were both surprised by that. But what should we have done? Would you rather we destroyed each of their precious, innocent lives? I know you can't mean that. You love them too much to ever mean that."

Edward released his breath, regaining some control over himself. "Say what you will about me and Bella, but _never_ call our children monsters again," he rumbled with fierce paternal indignation.

His darkly threatening tone intimidated Charlie into silence.

"Dad, I know your father-daughter protectiveness must be going into overdrive," I acknowledged. "I understand why you think I'm the victim in all this. How could you not, considering the imbalance of power between Edward and me? Well, what _used_ to be an imbalance, anyway."

"_Do_ you understand, Bella?" he countered, incredulous rather than angry. "Do you know how it feels to discover that all this time, your only daughter was at the mercy of… of someone more dangerous than you could have ever imagined? That your fears were more than justified? That I could have lost you in the blink of an eye, without ever knowing how or why? How could you _possibly_ understand?" all his frustration from the past six years was being channeled into his clenched fists.

It was my turn to be silenced. If anything was certain about this situation, it was that both sides needed to meet each other halfway.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "You're right, I can't ever fully understand how that must feel for you. I'll never know the anxiety of having a child I may be powerless to protect." The realization was hitting me for the first time – that neither Miles, Ivy, nor Damien would ever be remotely as vulnerable as I was during the six years of being human at Edward's side. There was no threat to their well-being that their parents couldn't diffuse.

He accepted my apology wordlessly. Compelled to say more, I shifted in my seat. "This won't make up for all the stress we've put you through, but try to focus on the positives. Edward has never harmed me. Not physically. And while I don't feel like explaining it right now, he had his reasons for leaving me five years ago. Everyone makes mistakes. What's important is that we learned from it and moved on."

Thankfully, he made no attempt to interrupt or challenge me so far. Encouraged by this, I threaded my arm through Edward's. "Edward has always been very gentle with me. If he weren't, you wouldn't have three grandchildren now." The mental images that projected made Charlie shift self-consciously. "He's the most loving, devoted husband I could ever ask for. And he's the best father – after you, of course," I smiled. Edward absorbed my praise with a faint smile of his own.

Charlie bent forward, elbows resting on his knees while rubbing his eyes. He suddenly seemed exhausted, mentally collapsing under the weight of it all. Cindy had coiled herself into the arm of the couch, thoroughly overwhelmed, her desire to speak long extinguished.

"I'm trying my hardest to take this all in, but it's almost too much," Charlie sighed, keeping his eyes pressed shut. "On one hand, I want to hate Edward for… well, for what he is. For what he _could_ have done to you. On the other hand, I can't hate him for loving you. His motives were obviously never evil. And I can't hate the children who wouldn't exist without him… even if I _am_ worried about their future."

"You needn't be," Edward spoke. "They'll have more than enough people to look after them."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Charlie glanced over his shoulder at a cropped view of the back yard. The others were still seated beneath the canopy, breathlessly waiting for us to emerge. "Just one of the many things I can't believe. Your entire family… all this time, I never knew…"

"And now that you do?"

Edward's question hung suspended before us, caught within the invisible strands of a hundred unanswered questions, a thousand lingering concerns. "I-I don't know," Charlie blinked. "What are we supposed to do or think? We've just learned that the two of you are…" his throat constricted, not wanting to release the word, "…_vampires_. Shit, I can't believe I just said it out loud, but there it is. So you tell me, what do people like us do? What's the protocol after finding out your in-laws aren't human, your daughter's been converted too, and your grandkids defy all natural laws?" he threw up his hands in mock defeat.

Edward clasped his hands contemplatively. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. Besides Bella, you're the only people we've ever shared our secret with."

"Are you serious?" Charlie raised his eyebrows. "We're the only people on this planet who know the truth?"

"The only ones currently alive," Edward confirmed, sending a shiver through Cindy's huddled form.

"Wow. I guess we should feel… privileged, then," he sounded unsure whether that was the appropriate response to have.

"You're not obligated to feel anything," Edward advised. "There's certainly no right or wrong way to react. But for what it's worth, you two have handled this quite well. Even you, Cindy," he looked upon her with compassion. I could hear her heartbeat accelerate from having his attention shift to her.

"Thanks," she managed to say hoarsely.

For the first time during this extraordinary conversation, there was an awkward pause where no one knew what to say next, ironic that it had taken so long to arrive. Even more ironic was what remained unspoken seemed more unnerving that had been said. While Charlie and Cindy no doubt had a million questions, none of which could be easily articulated, Edward and I needed to know what the chances were that we'd ever see them again after today.

Were we to be disowned, expelled from my family like prosaic black sheep, like an alcoholic uncle or deadbeat cousin? Would they reduce the complexities of our existence to such trite rejection? Or, defying every instinct and healthy fear, would they somehow find the unnatural courage to accept us? And if not for our own sake, at least for their grandchildren's? That was, after all, at the very heart of this grueling situation, the reason we'd chosen to face this discomfort. Failing ourselves was one thing; failing our children was another, one that neither of us could tolerate.

"So… is there anything else you'd like to ask us?" I tucked my hair behind my ear, the nervous gesture still part of my mannerisms.

When Charlie turned his eyes to me, their emotional message was painfully acute. He hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts before responding to the daughter he no longer fully recognized, no longer knew as he had just half an hour before. This was the moment I'd been dreading above all others. More than the revelation of what we were, more than the implications that bore for our children, even more than the supernatural stigma attached to our identity – none had the power to undo me as my father's emotional response could. What was left after he cut through all the extraneous facts was what really mattered. And I was about to find what remained after the smoke cleared.

"Bella…" saying my name was all it took to unhinge him. Eyes quivering with tears, he'd suddenly lost the ability to speak. It was just as well. If he were able to verbalize what his eyes communicated, my heartache might send me crashing through the floor.

I felt the emotional dry heave of having no tears of my own. All I could say was the one thing I feared the most. "Dad… please don't hate me."

"Hate you?" he pronounced it like a foreign phrase. "Why would you ever think that?"

"There are plenty of reasons," I replied self-deprecatingly. "Keeping this from you for six years. Lying about the kids and keeping you from seeing them more often." I continued the litany of charges against myself. "Turning into someone you don't recognize anymore."

"I won't lie, those things do hurt. But I understand why you felt you had to do them. I can't see myself acting any differently if I were in your position," he reflected. "And as for not recognizing you, Bella, that won't ever happen. No matter what your skin looks like, you'll always be my little girl. You won't ever be a stranger to me," tears spilled out between blinks. "I don't care what anyone thinks or says, not even Billy. I won't let fear keep me from my daughter. I haven't given a lifetime of police service to let fear rule my life now."

The fierce, loving determination in his voice astounded me. "Do you really mean it?"

"Yes," was all he could manage between tears.

"That goes for me too."

Cindy's affirmation was even more shocking than Charlie's. Straightening in her seat, she met our eyes tentatively, silently asking pardon for her earlier revulsion.

"If you're not afraid, then neither am I," she pledged her husband.

Charlie nodded, giving her hand a grateful squeeze. "I knew there was a reason I married you," he wiped his cheeks dry with the back of his hand, smiling despite himself. "You're just as crazy as I am."

"Maybe, but nobody can argue we're perfect for each other," she nudged him.

Still disbelieving what I'd heard, I glanced quickly at Edward. He was on the verge of beaming.

"So where does that leave us? You're sure there's nothing else you need to say or hear?" I pressed.

"Well, there are some details we can live without," Charlie admitted. "The gory ones, that is. I think I speak for both of us when I say that."

Cindy nodded uneasily.

"It's enough to know you only eat animals. We don't need any more information beyond that," he emphasized, raising his palms.

"Not a problem," Edward assured them with a smirk. "We'll keep our meals private."

Not fully accustomed to Edward's sense of humor, Charlie blinked a few times before continuing. "Right. Thanks. And I guess it goes without saying that we keep all this to ourselves?"

"Absolutely," Edward dropped the smirk.

"Or else?" Charlie asked, not entirely in jest.

Edward shook his head. "There won't be any negative consequences for you. Most people wouldn't believe you anyway, and if they did…"

I knew where he was going, and tension filled the room once again.

"If they did?" Cindy asked anxiously.

Gazing into the back yard, Edward sighed. "Bella and I would be punished, not you."

"What do you mean?"

"We're not the only vampires in the world, of course," he explained. "It may surprise you that we have a governing body. Its leaders don't abide by our family's moral code, but they have established some rules. One of them is that we don't reveal our true nature to any human."

"What exactly happens if you do?" Charlie crossed his arms.

"Capital punishment," Edward said flatly.

Involved as he was with the law, Charlie had engaged in plenty of death penalty debates with his colleagues. Those discussions rarely resulted in either side altering their opinion, and in all honesty, only left him feeling more confused and conflicted. I wondered if Edward's revelation would help clarify his thoughts or tangle them even more.

"So you see, it's not about scaring you into keeping quiet. It's about trusting that you'd never want anything to happen to Bella or me," Edward wrapped his arm behind my shoulders. "Not to mention your grandchildren. They don't deserve to lose their parents, no matter who – or what – their parents may be."

"Of course not," Cindy declared. "We'll never tell a soul. Never."

"Thank you," Edward said sincerely. "In addition to preserving our lives, that saves us a lot of trouble. Carlisle would be forced to leave the hospital if anyone found out. We'd have to move again. Life is much simpler when everyone just thinks of us as reclusive yuppies," he smiled.

Charlie grunted a laugh. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll always think of you that way."

"I'm flattered," Edward said good-naturedly.

"It all makes sense now," Charlie remarked. "I knew doctors make some nice cash, but I always wondered how Carlisle could afford all the luxury cars, the designer house, _and_ that island."

"Not that hard when you pass on five generations' inheritance to yourself," Edward rubbed his chin. "He manages it well."

"I'd say so. It also explains how you can afford to bum around without a job, noncommittally thinking about 'college,' right?" Charlie gave him a playfully shaming look.

Edward grinned at me. "Someone doesn't want me to spend eight hours a day away from her," he winked. "Besides, I make a good house husband, wouldn't you say Bella?"

"The best," I laughed, elated that the conversation had taken a lighthearted turn.

He craned his neck to glance outside once more. "The kids seem to think so too, if I can presume to speak for them."

"You certainly can," I kissed his cheek. Charlie and Cindy watched our affectionate exchange with unmasked captivation.

"Speaking of them, we might want to head back outside," Cindy suggested absently. "We've kind of left them hanging. Miles is probably jumping out of his skin waiting for that cake."

"Probably," Edward smiled ruefully. "He's definitely got a sweet tooth. He gets that from me… or who I used to be," he added wistfully.

That comment caused an awkward silence to return. I could tell Charlie and Cindy still had countless questions for us, but neither knew where to begin. Indulging their curiosity might cause more details to surface than they wanted. Yet unless they explored this surreal paradigm, it would never congeal for them, not fully. It would remain half reality and half folklore until they allowed the curtain to be drawn back.

"Edward, I feel like we haven't even known each other all these years. Everything I thought I knew about you is out the window," Charlie lamented, not vindictively but sadly. "It feels like we're starting over at square one. It's strange to say the least."

"I understand. But you'll find I'm still the same person, and so is Bella. I'm still your son-in-law, and I still love Bella and our children more each day. Bella's still your daughter who always puts others before herself. In time, you'll come to realize that's what matters, and the other details don't change that," Edward spoke with gentle, eloquent confidence. "That said, don't be afraid or embarrassed to ask us anything. We're an open book."

Nodding, Charlie placed both hands on his knees. "Just give us some time. Odds are good we'll wake up tomorrow morning and think we dreamed it all."

"Take all the time you need. If you don't want to discuss it anymore today, that's fine. Let it sink in and come back when you're ready. We'll be here."

"And when we go back outside…?" Cindy looked toward the party with renewed fear.

"My family won't force you to talk about anything you're not ready to," Edward assured them. "They're some of the most understanding, empathetic individuals on the planet. They realize what a shock this is for any human. They'll sense whether or not you want to discuss it and respect your wishes."

They both nodded, relieved to hear it but swallowing nervously nonetheless. "Then I suppose we shouldn't keep the birthday boy waiting any longer," Charlie said gruffly, willing his legs to lift him off the relative safety of the couch. Cindy stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, then accepted the hand he offered her and stood shakily next to him.

Ever the sensitive, magnanimous host, Edward rose to address them. "If you're not comfortable going back out there, we understand. You're free to go home if you feel that's best."

"No, that wouldn't be fair to Miles," Charlie exchanged a worried glance with Cindy. "We can't leave his party so soon, and not without saying goodbye first."

"We haven't even seen him open our present yet," Cindy added. Then, turning to us, her eyes shone with fragile yet determined strength. "Besides, you two already made yourselves vulnerable. Charlie and I can at least return the favor."

The only natural, logical thing to do at that point was hug them both as tightly as I dared, mindful of my superhuman strength as well as the sleeping infant in my other arm.

"I don't know what to say," I whispered, overcome with emotions I wasn't prepared for. "You don't know what this means to me, to us. I was so afraid you'd disown us after today," I sobbed. "I thought you might never want to see us again, not even the kids."

"Oh Bella," Cindy shut her eyes as a single tear escaped them. "Charlie and I love you all too much to ever disown you. Just because we're a little freaked out doesn't mean we'll ever stop loving you."

Stepping back from our embrace, my dad suddenly appeared guilty, too ashamed to meet either of our eyes. "I… I'm sorry I called the kids monsters," he dropped his gaze to Damien, seeing him as if for the first time. "They're beautiful. All three of them."

It was Edward's turn to warmly embrace them both. "Thank you," he replied graciously.

In that instant, I realized the totality of Alice's vision had miraculously come to pass. _I see Charlie and Edward embracing, and a warm feeling of understanding all around. Bella, you'll finally have everything you ever wanted – your family close to ours, with no secrets or barriers._

As the four of us stumbled our way to the deck in an emotionally intoxicated haze, I wondered who was more speechless: those who'd just learned their in-laws were lethal, mythical creatures, or those who found themselves lovingly embraced despite that revelation.

My head felt disconnected from my body as I pondered our respective challenges. They had to bury the fear that our behavior could, at any unpredictable time, erupt into a violent display of our inmost feral instincts. We, on the other hand, had to trust that despite living in that shadow, they would inexplicably continue to love us. Which was the more imposing challenge, I couldn't honestly say.


	11. Chapter 11: Visitors

**Chapter 11: Visitors**

**Jacob**

The woods smelled fantastic that morning in the foggy depths of pre-dawn light. My nostrils flared to welcome the scent of pine and spruce into my giant lungs as my paws thundered through the underbrush. I wasn't following my usual route today. For reasons I couldn't explain, something beckoned me to run wildly without regard to direction. It happened every now and then, roughly once a month, when the urge to churn up every square inch of the forest floor suddenly filled me to maddening levels. Sometimes it seemed my hide would shed itself from the inner explosion.

Though it bothered me more than I cared to admit, that restless feeling had been cropping up a lot more lately – a couple times a week instead of once a month.

Sam and the others knew about my early morning runs. They respected my need for them and never intruded or asked to come along, enabling me to sustain the habit I'd begun four months ago.

The ground had changed in those four months. What had been cold and unyielding beneath my paws in February was becoming softer, muddier now with the spring thaw. If only the memories and visions I lived with each day had melted along with the snow.

Winter had been in full swing when I last saw them. Through a flurry of swirling snowflakes, I'd silently watched them across the grocery store parking lot, Edward carrying a well-bundled child in each arm. Even at a distance, even with their faces tucked inside furry hoods, their small faces could be seen frowning slightly. Faces that resembled their parents to a breathtaking degree. When I closed my eyes, I still saw their flushed cheeks, their eyes ambivalently taking in the falling snow.

Whatever I'd planned to purchase at the store that day, I couldn't remember. But I hadn't gone home empty-handed; I'd returned with enough frustration to fill ten shopping carts.

Seeing them had been unexpected enough, but what I felt afterward was even more surprising. Hadn't I sorted through my unresolved feelings years ago? Hadn't I relinquished Bella from my possessive, jealous grasp and accepted that her happiness didn't have to compromise mine? Why would an isolated, random instance of seeing Miles and Ivy suddenly undermine all my progress? It didn't make sense. I'd closed that chapter definitively – I'd been certain of it.

My morning runs were an attempt to gain clarity, as if ripping the soil would unearth the answers I needed. After a month of vain effort, I'd decided to call her, hoping our lapse in communication wouldn't be too awkward to overcome. It had to be better than this endless, circular haze of emotions I couldn't decipher. Maybe if I heard her voice, arranged a time to see and talk with her again, then something might click into place and release me from all this.

Carlisle had answered the phone that day, his crisp, professional voice more clinical than I wanted to hear on the other line:

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Hi Carlisle, it's Jacob," I was already second-guessing my decision to call.

"Oh, Jacob. Hello," he replied uncertainly. "I was just on my way to the hospital, so I'm afraid I don't have long to talk. What did you need?"

What did I _need_? If I knew, I wouldn't be calling in the first place. "Well, I'd like to talk with Bella if she's around."

It sounded like Carlisle's breath caught in his throat. "She's… indisposed at the moment. Maybe you should talk to Edward, I'll put him on," he brusquely advised.

Before I could object, I heard the muffled sounds of the receiver exchanging hands.

"Jacob?" Edward sounded cautious to pick up the hastily transferred call.

"Yeah, hi… Carlisle said Bella's 'indisposed?'"

"That's the politically correct way of putting it," he said flatly.

His tone was impossible to misinterpret. Instantly I knew. "Oh no… don't tell me…"

Sighing, I could almost see him shut his eyes. "Unfortunately, yes. She's three months along with one more to go. Carlisle had to sedate her last week."

Admitting that to me was probably the last thing he wanted to do, exposing the horrible truth to someone with ample motivation to berate him for it. Yet now that the worst was upon us, now that my greatest fears were confirmed, it all felt surprisingly anticlimactic. This didn't feel like the glorious moment of vindication I'd always expected it to be. Rather than wanting to curse Edward for selfishly destroying her, I felt like commiserating with him, offering him whatever empathy I could for a situation none of us had ever wished for.

"I'm sorry to hear it," I replied. "Is there anything I can do?" my offer was symbolic more than anything. What could I possibly do, after all?

"No, but thanks for asking. We've got everything under control as best we can. The baby is… growing well," he said with difficulty.

"That's… good," I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by this point. I may not be struggling to be civil with him, but I hadn't a clue what the appropriate thing to say was.

Several awkward seconds followed. "Aren't you going to yell at me?" Edward finally asked.

"No."

"Why not? Isn't this what you've wanted all along, a chance to prove once and for all that I'm bad for her? To rage over her becoming one of us?" he prodded.

I was taken aback for more than one reason. First, it astonished me that he suspected I still harbored resentment toward him after all these years. And second, it hadn't occurred to me yet that Bella would have to be changed. Being sedated was one thing, but eventually requiring venom to survive… I hadn't necessarily made the connection.

"I'm not thrilled about her changing, but if there's no other way, I'll have to learn to live with it. I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"No, you don't. But you're not one to let that deter you from voicing your opinion. I was expecting a full-on verbal assault, Jake. I'm surprised."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I quipped. "I'm just not in the mood for arguing."

Edward paused a second. "Did you know about this before you called?"

"I had no idea. I thought Bella's just been too busy with the kids to keep in touch lately. I guess this explains why I didn't see her with you at the supermarket last month… and why the kids looked unhappy."

My observations didn't exactly brighten the situation, I realized after speaking. Edward sighed again. "Not to sound rude, but why did you call if you didn't already know?"

A valid question, I had to admit. But what I _wasn't_ willing to admit were my true reasons. "It doesn't matter," I deflected. "Bella's condition is more important. Just let me know if you think of anything I can do to help."

"There is one thing," he said hesitantly.

"What's that?"

"Don't tell your tribe. They barely granted Bella asylum on the reservation when she was pregnant with Miles, despite his normal human development. If they find out about this one, which is obviously more vampiric, I'm afraid of what they may try to do."

His plea was just that – a plea, not a demand or ultimatum. It was strange to hear him make an appeal as opposed to issuing a threat. It seemed both of us were defying each other's expectations that day. "I'll do my best, but sometimes it isn't easy to keep my thoughts from them. If they suspect I'm hiding something, I won't stand a chance."

"If that does happen, I know you'll advocate for us," he said with dignified optimism.

"Again, I'll do my best, but I can't control them. The best I can offer might be to warn you of their plans." I cringed at the thought of anyone bringing a witch hunt down on them, but I wasn't so naïve as to think it couldn't happen. Sam took his role as protector quite seriously. My opinion was only one among many, and certainly no more influential than any.

The sound of a wailing child suddenly filtered through the speaker, signaling the end of our conversation. "Thank you, Jacob. We're glad to have you as a sympathizer. Now if you'll excuse me, I think someone just pulled his sister's pigtails," Edward said distractedly.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Our brief dialogue had done nothing to ease my frustration, even with it rattling inside my head for three months now. Though I'd managed to hide Edward and Bella's secret all this time, I kept returning to the facts, obsessively turning them over to see if they might hold the key to wisdom. This pregnancy wouldn't allow Bella to remain human. The child, who must be two months old by now, wouldn't be like the other two. And it didn't take a psychologist to see that the other two had been miserable during Bella's internment.

All of these facts troubled me, but I forced myself to rank them. I surprised myself by putting Bella's transformation at the bottom of the list. It all felt ironically anticlimactic. Maybe it was because I'd long suspected this would happen and known it was always just around the corner. It had finally arrived and there was nothing I could do about it. The part of me that wanted to pummel the earth in protest was silenced by my quiet resignation. At least Bella would be happy, getting what she'd wanted the past six years. And the kids would obviously be happy to have their mother back.

The kids…

As I stood panting at the edge of the high cliffs, feeling the ocean's pulse rumbling through my bones, my furry eyebrows pinched together. If Bella's transformation wasn't what troubled me most, then by deductive reasoning, the kids must be. Yet I'd long cured myself of any jealousy surrounding them, hadn't I? I no longer wished that their hair and skin were several shades darker, or that their hazel eyes were black like mine. I'd stopped coveting that connection with Bella years ago. So why did I feel strangely uncomfortable thinking about them now?

Several minutes passed as I let the question hang above the crashing waves. Then, softer than a whisper in the depths of my soul, the answer stunned me. It wasn't the children's existence or appearance that upset me, but rather their _distress_.

At first, this didn't make any sense either. Why should the emotional state of two toddlers be any of my concern? Between a few Christmas visits and Emily's baby shower two years ago, I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen them since Charlie's wedding. I had the distinction of being "Uncle" Jacob, but that title couldn't magically forge a bond. The only thing that could – quality time together – was definitely lacking between us.

Yet that wasn't true for another toddler who also knew me as Uncle Jacob. Sam and Emily's son Zachary was certainly no stranger to me. I couldn't count the number of times they'd begged me into an emergency babysitting situation with the kid. Some weeks, depending on their schedule, I swore I spent more time with him than his own parents did. Of course I was glad to help, and Sam usually made it worth my while with some token of appreciation. Since turning 21 earlier this year, my preferred method of payment had been a case of my favorite beer.

On the nights when Zachary found the separation from his parents unbearable, the beer had been my savior. Never drinking so much that I impaired my ability to care for him, I only tried to dull the sound of screaming, whimpering cries coming from his bedroom. Reflecting on it now, it occurred to me that most people would be irritated by the noise. Yet it wasn't irritation I tried to escape with alcohol. It was sadness.

When had I become such a bleeding heart? Where had these mushy paternal instincts come from? Was Zachary to blame? If I stopped babysitting for him, if I distanced myself from his hugs and snotty little nose, would everything return to normal?

It was no use pretending it would. Whether Zachary had triggered it or just added to the effect, it was here to stay. Even if I isolated myself from every child on the reservation, I'd only be left alone with the truth. And the truth was that I, Jacob Black, aged twenty-one and still living at home with a closet full of jorts, wanted children. The only sane, rational part was that I wasn't obsessed with having them with Bella.

The revelation was enough to knock the wind out of me. What was I thinking? Was I insane? No guy my age should be feeling this, not to this degree. If anyone found out about this, especially any of the wolves, I'd be a laughing stock. Sam might not mock me as relentlessly as the others, but he'd still snicker.

Shoving my nose into the cool dirt, I pinched my eyes shut in embarrassed frustration. Keeping Bella and Edward's new baby a secret from my brothers hadn't been easy. Keeping _this_ a secret would be brutally impossible. They'd smell my somber mood a mile away and wouldn't give me a moment's rest until they learned the reason. I was doomed – not only because my status as tough, badass Quileute would soon be revoked, but even more because I'd yet to imprint on someone. It seemed like a cruel joke to face certain humiliation without a mate to console me.

So there I stood, letting the morning wind thrust my fur in every direction, unwilling to move a muscle to return home. Maybe if I stayed out here long enough, my ridiculous desires would just drop into the sea and vanish. Maybe I'd wake to discover this was all a dream, that I was in fact a normal youth who wanted nothing more than a beer bottle at his lips, not a baby bottle at his infant son or daughter's.

I was determined to keep my eyes closed as long as necessary, whether that was an hour or all day. Yet I abandoned that plan when visions of smiling, diapered babies appeared behind my eyelids. Snapping them open, I growled in defeat. It seemed things would only get worse before they improved.

The string of six kayaks approaching from the north didn't even register with me at first. My initial thought was that I was hallucinating on top of everything else. Then the sound of the riders' paddles reached my ears, cutting through the surf with vigorous strokes. Though their voices were swallowed by the wind, I could see their mouths yelling to each other as they slowly approached land. Tough weather gear wrapped them from the head down, making it impossible to tell which were men or women.

Whatever they were, one thing was certain: they were either incredibly seasoned or incredibly foolish to ride here. Judging by the quality of their gear, I was inclined to believe it was the former. I watched with unbroken interest as they turned into the cove and out of the Pacific's mighty currents.

Their forms were becoming clearer, easier to distinguish with my keen eyes, but only when one of them turned their face toward the cliffs did I draw an astonished breath. The deep brown skin, narrow eyes and broad nose… those features were unmistakably Native American. Yet even at this distance, I was certain it was no one I knew. I lowered my profile to keep from being seen. The traveler scanned the cliffs with moderate curiosity and then recommitted their attention to paddling.

Ears pricked to detect whatever pieces of conversation I could, I listened as they drew the kayaks up onto the beach.

"Are you sure this is it?"

"If it's not, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

"Don't leave your kayak that close to the water – tide'll sweep it away in less than an hour."

"I'm too tired to pull it in any further."

"Maybe one of our friends will let you take a nap at their place."

"Who has the map?"

"Jade does."

"Let's rest a minute and take a look at it."

Their exchange sounded innocent enough, but instinct told me this wasn't a simple day trip for them. I sensed an agenda, a codified purpose in their arrival. Not necessarily subversive or threatening, but an agenda nonetheless. The only way to know for sure was to observe them at closer range.

This presented a problem in that I couldn't communicate with them in this form, and I was several miles from a decent set of clothes. Yet the time it would take to return home, dress myself and run back in human form couldn't be wasted. As the only Quileute to witness this, the responsibility to monitor the situation fell on my shoulders alone, regardless of whether those shoulders happened to be furry at the moment.

At least their map-viewing session gave me a chance to sneak down undetected. Peering across a low-lying sea of ferns, my joints locked in place to remain perfectly still while the visitors passed within thirty feet of me. Their hoods were now withdrawn, hanging limply from their necks as they drank from canteens and double-checked compass bearings. Leading the group was a middle-aged man with long hair tied back, his eyes serious but not hostile. He fit the typical profile of a natural leader – strong features with wisdom subtly etched in them.

The five who followed him were all younger, some considerably so. In second place was a man I estimated to be about thirty, while the two boys in back were clearly still teenagers. But it was the two in the middle who ultimately held my attention: two women with nearly identical faces, neither appearing older than twenty-five. Even with shapeless outerwear covering them, their movements were decidedly graceful, and their eyes shone despite the dim forest light.

They were beautiful. Though anyone would've had difficulty declaring one more striking than the other, the one in front captivated me to the point of delirious distraction. It was as if the others simply dissolved before my eyes and she was walking alone, oblivious to my adoration.

My objective completely forgotten, my mind was suddenly as foggy as the surrounding woods. The landscape had become a giant swirling kaleidoscope with her at the focal point. Trees melted into the bushes below, branches twisting as if they were wet paint manipulated on a canvas. The effect should have induced vomiting, but instead of nausea I felt… joy. Indescribable euphoria. A sublime sense of wholeness.

As if I could simply sit here all day and do nothing but gaze at her, beyond satisfied just to be in her presence. I needed no other companionship. I needed no food or water. I never needed to see the sun again. She was all the fellowship I needed, my nourishment and sunshine. She just didn't know it yet.

In a matter of minutes, my original purpose for following them had been stripped from my brain, replaced by the consumptive need to stay within a certain radius of _her_. My neurons recognized no other directive now. Yet somehow, as I tracked them like the lovesick dog I was in more ways than one, my thoughts were lucid enough to realize what was happening.

Sam had never described the imprinting experience to me in much detail. After today, he'd never have to.


	12. Chapter 12: Phantoms

**It's been a while... because I've been working on a Star Wars story. I needed a change in pace so I decided to interrupt this one temporarily, but don't worry, it's not cancelled or anything. Just be aware that there won't be any new chapters added here until after New Year's at the earliest. Enjoy the holidays!  
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**Chapter 12: Phantoms**

**Jacob**

The sun was just rising above the treetops when the visitors stepped out of the woods and into the residential compound area. I'd recognized this was their trajectory two miles back. What I didn't know – and didn't care to fight my imprinting haze to ponder – was what business they had arriving unannounced. If a party this size had been expected, Sam wouldn't have withheld that information from us. Which meant he'd be just as surprised to see them as I was. But in addition to surprise, there was likely to be a healthy amount of indignation as well.

Pacing along the tree line, I shook my head to clear my vision before doubling back to my house. Once inside, I tripped over every obstacle and piece of furniture we owned, stubbing my toes and elbows in my haste to throw on clothes. Objects no longer appeared quite as gelatinous as they had outside, but my head still buzzed with the aftereffects of imprinting. Good thing Billy was out of town this weekend, or my crashing around would have woken him up and raised suspicions that I was hung over.

Not only was I in no position to prove him wrong, but being upbraided would only delay my "reunion" with the visitors, and each second apart from _her_ was like another second in freezing water beneath a shelf of ice. Too frantic to notice my shirt was on backwards, I flew out into the front yard, cedar shingles splintering as the door slammed behind me.

I should have known Sam would already be standing in their midst. Even if I'd only been inside five seconds, he'd still have reached them before I returned. It seemed his senses had only sharpened since becoming a parent. Stifling a surge of envy, I ran over to stand at his side and face the newcomers at close range. The magnetic pull emanating from her felt stronger than ever, and it took all my willpower to acknowledge the others and refrain from staring at her alone. Her beauty was even more breathtaking at this distance, tormenting me as I fought to maintain my composure.

"Good morning Jacob. It seems we have some visitors," Sam glanced at me with arms crossed. His body language was neither defensive nor welcoming, but a measured mix of both.

"I know," I exhaled. "I've been tracking them since La Push. They arrived on kayaks just before dawn."

"So it was _you_ we sensed in the woods?" the eldest raised an eyebrow. "You could have said hello."

"I would've faced you if it hadn't been for… extenuating circumstances," I looked quickly at Sam.

What looked like a knowing glance passed among the six of them. "No harm done. Now that we're here, allow us to introduce ourselves. I'm Sydney West, and this is my son, Aaron," he motioned toward the thirty-something man next to him. "These are my nieces Allanah and Jade. And lastly, Warren and Luke, my neighbor's two boys."

My throat constricted at the sound of her name. _Allanah_. A name no less beautiful than its owner.

Sam nodded to each in turn. "Pleasure to meet you all. I'm Sam Uley, and this is Jacob Black."

Sydney smiled warmly. "I know."

Caught off guard by the blithe comment, Sam frowned slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Come now, has it been so long that you don't remember your own wife's uncle?" Sydney replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Studying Sydney's face to match it with any previous memories, Sam's mood had shifted from suspicion to self-consciousness. "I… I'm sorry, it's been a few years since the wedding, and Emily has so many aunts and uncles," he offered an apologetic smile. "Remembering faces has never been one of my strong points. Just ask Emily."

Sydney's face creased as his smile broadened. "No offense taken, Sam. We've all got busy lives, full schedules. And as I understand it, yours is even busier than when I last saw you. Zachary, is it?"

"Yes, he's two now," Sam confirmed.

"Can't wait to meet him. And it will be so good to see Emily again too," he said fondly. "Now, I hate to impose, but we spent the last few days rowing forty miles down the Pacific. We'd do just about anything for a hot breakfast right now." Five hungry faces behind him left no room for doubt.

It was Sam's turn to smile. "Not to worry, Emily's used to cooking for massive appetites, isn't she Jake?" he nudged me with his elbow. I scowled, prompting the male contingent to chuckle.

"Then lead the way," Sydney urged. "Once we're fed, we'll be in much better condition to share our reasons for visiting."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Any day that began with Emily's cooking stood to be exceptional, and as the aromas of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast wafted onto the Uleys' porch, I let my mind float aimlessly with them. The rush that had flooded my system earlier that morning had been replaced by an immobilizing, full-body calm. My every cell felt bathed in liquid peace, if such a thing could be described. It was a level of absolute, pervasive joy I was certain I'd never experienced before. And its warm waves flooded me anew each time my eyes settled on Allanah's form.

Zachary's high-pitched squeal broke my hypnosis. Balanced on my knee, his pudgy arms waved a teething ring under my face as he beamed a semi-toothy grin. The others couldn't resist laughing at the display.

"Jacob's like a second dad to Zachary," Sam commented. "He's never had another babysitter. Sometimes he cries for an hour after Jake leaves."

Naturally, that elicited a compassionate response from the two women present. "That's so sweet. You must be really good with him," Jade remarked.

Glancing at her sister, Allanah then turned her breathtaking eyes to me. "Do you have any children of your own?"

My brain suddenly short-circuited, leaving me dumbstruck as I tried to reconnect its broken synapses. For all the silent adoration I'd been giving her the past hour, none of it had prepared me for the moment when she spoke directly to me – when those perfect lips formed words that sought a response from no other mouth but mine. The earth could have swallowed me whole at that moment and I'd have found it no more shocking.

An excessively awkward silence must have occurred outside my frozen mind, judging by the fact that Sam felt the need to answer for me.

"No, Jake is single," he said, regarding me with mild concern. In addition to my shock, I now enjoyed the paralyzing effects of humiliation.

Just when I began to pray that the earth really would consume me then and there, however, Emily's voice called through the window, announcing breakfast was at last ready. Her timing couldn't have spared me at a better moment.

Out of deference to our guests, Sam and I stood back to let them reenter the house before us. Yet instead of following closely on their heels, Sam halted our progress several feet from the door, drawing me back with a firm hand. Zachary nestled against my chest as his father examined my face.

"Jake, what's the matter?" he whispered.

I instinctively checked over my shoulder to ensure everyone was inside. Seeing them all seated at the table, elbows planted on its surface in their haste to eat, I turned back to Sam. "Now's not the best time," I murmured, feeling no less self-conscious than a minute ago.

Noticing my hesitation, he tried interpreting it. "Do you suspect something? Are they not who they say they are?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it despite this added distraction. "No, I have no reason to think so," my voice sounded miles away.

"Then why did you clam up when Allanah spoke to you?"

Standing on weather-worn floorboards with the sun's rays at our back, we stared at each other in mute communication, something that typically didn't happen in human form. I prayed our latent wolf connection would carry the message as clearly as if I'd said it out loud.

Just as I hoped it would, realization soon crept into Sam's eyes and softened them with true sympathy. "You've imprinted."

I could only nod.

He looked discreetly at the kitchen window and the oblivious guests behind it. "There's just something about Makah women, isn't there?" he smiled to himself, shaking his head. "You've got good taste, Jake. But you had to know I'd say that."

I shrugged. "I haven't been thinking too clearly the past hour, actually. I'm lucky if I can remind myself to breathe, much less follow a normal conversation."

Sam enjoyed a low, deep laugh. "How well I remember the feeling," he reminisced. "It'll pass. Give it a few more hours. It's all completely normal."

As encouraging as it was to hear this, it didn't address my other concerns. "Once it passes, what do I say to her? Do I just pull her aside and tell her in a _'Me Tarzan, you Jane'_ kind of way?" I grimaced at my own dry humor.

"Don't overthink it," he patted my shoulder. "The Makahs are familiar with our ways. They share family stories and legends as we do, so I'm sure Allanah knows about me imprinting on her cousin. Your news may surprise her, but it won't shock or confuse her."

Plenty of insecurity still remained. "What if… can it happen where the woman rejects the imprinting?" my voice was a shaky whisper. "Is that possible? Could she just turn on her heel and leave me in agony the rest of my life?"

"If it has happened, I've never heard of it," Sam said solemnly. "Imprinting is a complex, mysterious thing, but there's some reciprocity involved. She may not feel the acute physiological response you do, but on a deeply instinctual level, she'll feel the connection too." Glancing once more at the breakfast crew, he smiled again. "And judging by the way she's been looking at you this morning, I'd say you have nothing to worry about."

"What?" I blinked, all thoughts draining from my brain for the hundredth time that morning.

"You really weren't exaggerating when you said you were too foggy to breathe," he joked incredulously. "She's hardly looked at anyone else the entire time. And any fool can guess why she asked you about having your own children. She was probing, seeing whether you were available or not."

My system jolted at the thought of being so ignorant. As if I didn't yet have enough reasons to feel utterly foolish. "Are you serious?"

Sam appeared to be suppressing an even broader, thoroughly amused smile. "Would I lie to you? She likes what she sees, Jake. It's not so hard to believe… women melt over guys who are good with kids."

As if on cue, Zachary swatted his teething ring against my cheek and giggled, his dark eyes as mischievous as ever. Father and son seemed to be equally enjoying my naiveté.

"So like I said, you've got nothing to worry about," he reached for the boy. "Well, except for maybe one thing."

"Which is?"

Directing me toward the source of the delicious aromas of breakfast, he slapped my shoulder again. "Be prepared for a little sibling rivalry. Allanah wasn't the only one admiring your childcare skills," he winked.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

There wasn't so much as a crumb remaining on the table when everyone finished eating. Gracious as always, Emily accepted our repeated thanks and insisted none of us was obligated to help clean up. She was, as Sam reminded us, long accustomed to mass feedings and their aftermath. Our continued presence in the kitchen would only interrupt her system, so we resumed our respective positions on the porch.

The sun, higher in the sky now, illuminated Allanah's silky hair like a halo. My breathing halted once again, though it was marginally easier to resume this time. No wonder I'd missed her nonverbal cues earlier – she'd left my brain too oxygen-deprived to recognize them.

"I can't say it enough, that breakfast was fantastic," Sydney praised for the tenth time as he lowered himself into a wicker rocking chair. "Emily's cooking has certainly improved since moving here. Seems like it's been a good influence on her."

While he intended it as a genuine compliment, Sydney's comment made Sam briefly uncomfortable. I could almost hear his jaded thoughts: _Sure, if you close your eyes and can't see the scars on her face._

"Thanks, Sydney," he said instead. "So what brings _you_ here? Is there a family reunion I don't know about?"

Shaking his head, Sydney's expression grew more sober. "Unfortunately, no. If that were the case we'd travel more comfortably. Kayaking wouldn't have been our first choice."

"I was wondering about that," I found my voice. "The water's pretty rough this time of year. Why didn't you drive or hike down?"

Despite Sam alerting me to Allanah and Jade's overt attention, I was no less astonished to witness it myself now. Both sisters set their gaze squarely on me the instant I opened my mouth to speak. Had it not been madly inappropriate to do so, I'd have burst out laughing at the sight. Imagine me, Jacob Black, long-suffering victim of unrequited love, suddenly finding myself in a very different corner of a love triangle. It was either a cruel, ironic joke or a miraculous twist of fate. I'd have to suspend my official judgment until later in the day.

Aaron spoke next, pulling me back into coherent thinking. "As you know, water is the only way to avoid being tracked by bloodsuckers," he explained.

Sam frowned. "Who's been tracking you? We haven't felt a malicious presence in the area."

"That may true for the time being," Sydney advised, "but we've had visions. It's a family trait, which you can relate to," he looked meaningfully at both of us. "Both Aaron and Allanah have seen troubling things. We don't know when they'll come to pass, which is why we couldn't risk traveling by ground."

"What did they see?" Sam asked in alarm.

The two cousins exchanged glances before speaking. "Our visions aren't the same," Aaron began. "I see a group in black cloaks, clearly hunting for something or someone. Their intent is definitely hostile."

"And I see another group dressed as ordinary humans, with the same amber-colored eyes as the coven who lives nearby," Allanah continued, her voice caressing my eardrums. "But instead of predatory hunting, they seem to be fleeing. I get the feeling they're fugitives of some sort."

"How many in each group?" I asked.

"Four in mine," Aaron replied.

Allanah met my eyes. "Five," she announced. "But it looks like they're carrying someone. I can't get a clear view of who it is."

"That's disconcerting," Sam turned to me with eyebrows knotted. "What do you make of this? Any theories who they might be?"

Thankfully my brain had lurched into gear again. "Well, the first group sounds like the Volturi," I began. "Which doesn't really surprise me. By now they must know about…"

I almost had to bite my tongue in half to prevent the disastrous words from slipping out. I damn well should have bitten it through. Three months of protecting Bella and Edward's secret had nearly been erased by that stupid tongue.

"Know about what?" Sam's interest had increased tenfold.

Adrenaline pumped into my neurons. "Just that Bella hasn't been turned yet," I lied. "The Cullens have been putting it off for years, and the Volturi have to be tired of waiting."

Our guests were visibly uncomfortable discussing a human's contractual change, but neither they nor Sam questioned my explanation. "So they're coming for her," Sam repeated. "What about the others, the ones with the Cullens' same eye color? What threat could they pose if their lifestyles are similar?"

That I didn't have an answer for. The only vampires I knew of who fit that profile – the only other vegetarian coven in the world, to my knowledge – were the Delani group, whom I'd met at Bella and Edward's wedding. Not only did they seem trustworthy and non-threatening, they went out of their way to apologize for not joining forces against Victoria's army years ago – and for supporting Irina's mad quest for vengeance on the wolves.

Though I'd accepted their apology with reservation, nothing had caused me to doubt their sincerity since. Bella told me they'd mailed generous gifts for both Miles' and Ivy's births, and I could only assume they did the same for the newest baby. What would possess them to sabotage that momentum of good will, I hadn't a clue.

"Maybe you're sensing them fleeing the Volturi," I suggested, heart accelerating as I looked at Allanah. "You two said you can't predict when these visions will happen. So who knows, maybe they'll happen simultaneously."

"Maybe," she didn't sound entirely convinced. "One thing's for sure: whoever they're running from is desperate to catch them."

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. "Desperate? Desperation isn't something I'd expect from the Volturi. They strut into confrontations, not race anxiously toward them." He narrowed his eyes while considering it. "Desperation implies lack of control, which is one thing the Volturi never lack."

"You're right, it must be someone else pursuing them." I disliked the limited number of suspects that left us with. I could only remain optimistic for so long before deductive reasoning took over. Logic insisted that the next likely candidates were the Cullens themselves, which meant trouble was headed south from Alaska.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?" Sam inferred. "We should tell the Cullens."

"They've got their own visionary. She's probably seen it all herself."

"Perhaps. But if she hasn't yet, they'll appreciate the early warning."

"We can go if you're too busy," Sydney offered. "Although they may not trust the news coming from strangers."

Sam shook his head empathically. "No, you've done enough just coming from Neah Bay. We won't ask you to do our job for us," he crossed his arms, glancing sideways at me. "Jake and I will deliver the message."

The signature Alpha tone of his voice left no room for argument; it also spawned some serious dilemmas, the first of which was how to manage Sam's reaction to Bella and Edward's newborn. Convincing him I'd been just as ignorant of the matter would be enough of a challenge, followed by the far more massive hurdle of keeping his primal instincts in check.

Briefly, the prospect of bringing two or three pack other members appealed to me, but I discarded the idea almost as quickly as it came. Expecting them to react any differently than Sam in that situation, much less to be persuaded by someone other than the Alpha himself, was lunacy. I'd only stack the odds in Sam's favor by bringing more manpower to execute his orders.

Additional manpower wasn't the only deterrent, however. Additional witnesses weren't something I wanted either. The fewer who witnessed my reaction to seeing Bella in her current state, the better. The mission would be difficult enough without feeling scrutinized or patronized by those standing behind me. I couldn't allow anything to distract me from diffusing Sam's nerves and preventing the escalation into violence. And I was counting on him being too distracted himself to notice my discomfort.

Rough times were ahead no matter how I sliced it. Yet as I braced myself for a tense afternoon, something at the edge of my vision dulled the anxiety. Allanah and Jade were whispering to each other in tones even I couldn't hear, both of them stealing frequent glances in my direction. In that moment, Sam vanished from my side. The shadow of our impending visit to the Cullens ceased looming over me like the grim reaper himself. With each blink of those dark lashes, her bold yet bashful face turned all my fears to dust.

If Sam insisted on dragging me along on this two-man telegram, he could at least grant me one small concession first. He owed me that much.

"Fine, but wait a couple hours before we leave," I compromised. "There's someone I'd like to talk to first... in private." Swallowing against the knot in my stomach, I fixed my eyes on the woman across from me, eliminating any doubt whom I was referring to.

If anyone said a word as we both stood and walked silently down the porch steps, we couldn't hear it. The only sound beating our eardrums was each other's pulse, its rhythm synchronizing as our fingers laced together tentatively.


	13. Chapter 13: Elopement

**Chapter 13: Elopement**

**Jacob**

"Sam didn't look too happy about us taking off like that."

Fumbling to unlock the back door of my house, hands shaking as if I'd had ten cups of coffee that morning, I couldn't tell whether her words were playful or stern or both. My only conscious thought was being grateful once again that Billy wasn't home. I finally swung the door open and tripped over my feet twice while leading her across the kitchen floor, practically dragging her into the living room where we landed on the sofa.

The room felt strangely foreign, as if I hadn't spent most of my existence sprawled across the same sofa in a TV-induced stupor. Her presence shattered everything familiar about this environment. Even the air tasted different with her breathing it alongside me. Having her face within these walls was like having a Picasso or Rembrandt suddenly hanging from one of them. It was almost obscenely beautiful, utterly out of place in every regard.

"Do you normally make demands like that?" she asked in a tone I now recognized as playful.

"Uh, no… not usually," my neck and face were growing warmer by the second.

Studying me with a faint smile, she ran her fingers through her hair absentmindedly. "Then I guess we might call this a special occasion?"

"You could say so," I said after reminding myself to breathe yet again.

"I see. To what do I owe the honor?"

_What do I say to her? Do I just pull her aside and tell her in a 'Me Tarzan, you Jane' kind of way?_ Insecurity seized my heart again in an iron grip. If only Sam were here to coach me through this… no, I corrected, he didn't belong here. This was my challenge to face alone, and not just because inviting a third wheel into this situation would be incredibly awkward.

This was my future wife, the missing half of my soul sitting before me. If I lacked courage to weather this first challenge with her, what did that say about my character? Or my fitness to be married to her at all? Neither Sam nor anyone else should have to carry me through this. The man I proved myself to be today would be the same one proudly at Allanah's side for years to come. She deserved someone who demonstrated true strength and commitment from the very beginning.

"How well do you know Emily?" I began cautiously.

"Pretty well, I'd say. We were always close growing up," she replied. "I would have been her maid of honor if I hadn't been in the middle of final exams that spring."

"So you know about her engagement to Sam? How it happened, I mean?"

She nodded, lips pressed in a thin, thoughtful smile.

"You understand that he imprinted on her?"

Again she nodded, saying nothing as she listened patiently.

Sam had been right – she _was_ already familiar with it. As advantageous as that was, however, it left me reeling a little, like launching a sports car from zero to sixty in five seconds. I paused a moment to let the rush subside before talking again.

"What do you think about that? The whole imprinting thing?"

Her posture relaxed into a more reflective pose, one hand casually resting on her knee. She seemed to know I wanted more than just her opinion of Sam and Emily together. "A lot of girls I know don't really understand it, or if they do, they're cynical about it. They complain that it's sexist," she explained. "I don't try to argue with them. They're free to feel however they want. But I don't see it the way they do. I think it's a beautiful thing, actually."

The car had just jumped from sixty to a hundred in three seconds. "You do?"

"Mm-hm. It's romantic in its own way, a little bit of a real-life fairy tale." She blinked in slight embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that sounds like a four-year-old talking, doesn't it?"

"No, that's all right," I assured her, wanting to pinch myself to end this ludicrously perfect dream. Surely I was imagining this, hallucinating from some special ingredient Emily had peppered the eggs with. "I'm glad you said so. Very glad."

Her eyes shone at this, and for reasons other than gratitude, it seemed. "Really? Why is that?"

If this was a hallucination, my nervous system couldn't tell the difference. No dream had ever ignited my soul to the point of near madness. And the only way to soothe that madness – and determine once and for all if this was fantasy or reality – was to speak the simple truth. Whatever happened afterward would settle everything, whether for better or for worse.

"Because I've imprinted on you."

With the release of those words, my lungs suddenly felt able to process oxygen again. My heart resumed a normal, steady rhythm instead of pulsing erratically. The electrocution jarring my brain faded away, and my head felt reattached to the rest of my body. My vision cleared and Allanah's face no longer appeared to be floating against a blurry, disorienting background.

Most incredible of all, though, was the current expression on that face. If I wasn't mistaken, it was identical to how mine must have looked the first time she spoke to me on Sam's porch. Eyes frozen in incredulous wonder, as if blinking would erase the moment entirely, she stared at me for well over a minute.

"Say something," I urged, afraid I'd shocked her into never speaking again.

She seemed focused on some sacred image only she could see. "I know," she whispered. "It really is you, after all…"

All I could do was stare at her in confusion, trying to demystify her words. What could they possibly mean? We'd never met prior to this morning; what would make her say something that implied otherwise?

"I don't understand, what do you mean you _knew_?" I asked in disbelief.

Leaning back against the couch, her eyes refocused but she still avoided mine. "Vampires aren't the only things I've been seeing in my visions lately," she said quietly. "For three months now I've had recurring dreams that are rather… personal in nature. No one else knows about them. I haven't even shared them with Jade."

It began to make sense to me, or so I thought. "So you saw this conversation between the two of us?"

"Not exactly," she glanced up at me, blushing for the first time since entering the house. "You and I are both in the vision, but we're _not_ talking," her blush deepened noticeably.

My eyes widened involuntarily. If I read the implications correctly, especially given her body language and reluctance to meet my eyes, then those truly were some "personal" visions. It left me too stunned to respond for the time being.

"It's not as though I think about that sort of thing frequently. I've never been preoccupied with it at all," she added in hasty defense. "When it first started, I blamed it on a couple romantic comedies I'd seen recently. But when it continued for weeks on end, I had to consider it was something more."

She inhaled slowly to reinforce her nerves. "And there's more to it than you think. It isn't just about the… act itself." Her cheeks were glowing red, and I couldn't imagine them brightening any further. "I give birth to our children too. Sometimes it's our first, sometimes there are two or three already present with you at my bedside. The details vary, but you and I are always constant… and we're both incredibly happy."

I couldn't have been more shocked if I'd just been told the Cullens had somehow transformed back into humans.

The tables had turned rather ironically, and now it was Allanah's turn to worry whether or not _I'd_ recover. "Say something," she echoed my earlier plea.

It wasn't for lack of words that I didn't grant her wish. Just the opposite. She'd unwittingly released a million vivid thoughts, like an entire Fourth of July fireworks arsenal detonating all at once. That, along with replaying her words in an attempt to verify they did in fact communicate what they did, caused a serious speech delay. My vocal chords couldn't emit an intelligible sound when they were being pulled in countless directions.

Allanah, unfortunately, misjudged my inability to form consonants. "Gah, I should have kept that all to myself until later! Much, much later. Like on our fiftieth wedding anniversary," she shook her head, scowling at her impulsiveness. "Who in their right mind shares that with someone they've only known a couple of hours? I mean really? Now you're completely freaked out, and I have no one to blame but myself. Great. Just great," her head rolled back against the couch cushion in defeat. "If you want to revoke that imprinting, be my guest. I'll understand."

As much as I wanted to dispel her fears, my throat simply wasn't responding yet. I watched helplessly as she continued to kick herself.

"You'd think I'd know better. Every girl knows not to throw that sort of thing at a guy right away. It's such basic common sense, like knowing to put on clothes before going out in public," she smacked a palm against her forehead. "Somebody contact the Vatican, we've got a modern day miracle to report: I actually dressed myself this morning!"

That wasn't the only miracle. Laughter managed to creak its way out of my mouth, carrying with it the rest of my voice. "Allanah," I cleared my throat, "chill out. I'm okay."

She snorted. "I just hit you with the most intense visions ever. Even a fraction of that would send any man running."

"Well, I'm not just any man," I said with a smirk.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," skepticism lined her face.

"I swear I'm not," I held her gaze with open sincerity. "Not when everything you've said is exactly what I hoped to hear."

More incredulous than ever, she stared at me as if I'd just grown a second head. "What?"

I smiled at her astonishment. "If you think your visions are embarrassing, try being the only twenty-one-year-old guy you know who wants a family. Probably the only one in the entire _country_."

"You're serious," she concluded after studying me a minute.

"Trust me, I couldn't invent this if I tried." I sighed as the frustration of the past few months flashed before me briefly. "I'd rather be a 'normal' young adult. Life would be a whole lot easier."

"And here I thought nothing could match my news," she smiled.

"I'd say we're even, wouldn't you?"

"Sure," she winked at me, laughing. "So now that we've covered the awkward stuff, how about we actually get to _know_ each other?"

I laughed in return. "Yeah, there's nothing like working our way backward, huh?"

"What can I say, it's apparently what I do best," she shrugged. "So tell me about yourself. Any brothers or sisters?"

"Two older twin sisters," I replied. "Rebecca and her husband live in Hawaii. They're having a kid in a few months. Rachel got married a few years to one of our own, Paul. They're an imprint couple too. I don't see much of them either – they moved out east for Rachel's master's degree."

"I seem to remember hearing their names before, probably from Emily. I also remember hearing your mom was deceased?"

I nodded. "She died in a car crash when I was nine. Then it was just me and my dad when Rachel and Rebecca moved out a few years later."

"I'm sorry," Allanah said without overdoing the sympathy, which I appreciated. "That must have been even harder with your dad needing extra help around the house."

"It was hard at first, but we formed a pretty good routine after a while," I kept my response short, wanting to change the subject without revealing my discomfort. "What about you? Any siblings besides Jade?"

"We've got three younger brothers and a baby sister. Well, she's not _technically_ a baby anymore, she's five. But she's still spoiled enough to be called the baby."

My eyes widened slightly. "How old are _you_?"

"Twenty-two." She paused a moment, knowing my reason for asking. "I know, that's quite a gap. But it's not uncommon in our family tree. Emily and I come from a tradition of large families, some with twenty years between the oldest and youngest kids."

Her nonchalant attitude gave me no reason to doubt her. Sam _had_ mentioned Emily's numerous aunts and uncles as being why he didn't recognize Sydney immediately. But it was just so unusual in modern times, except for those fundamentalist clans who forbade their daughters to attend college and forced them to wear hideous pastel dresses.

Yet the girl in front of me sounded educated and certainly wasn't being choked by a lace-trimmed collar. Her eyes weren't dull from a lifetime of farm-based homeschooling and total TV deprivation. It was with obvious pride and affection that she spoke about her siblings – not just with an ambivalent, brainwashed acceptance of her parents' breeding habits. She fascinated me, challenging every stereotype and assumption I'd ever had.

When I didn't respond right away, she crossed her arms. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're one of those misguided 'population control' fanatics," she rolled her eyes, clearly having no tolerance for it. "I'm so tired of everyone believing that myth. Take a road trip through Montana or Wyoming sometime. I guarantee you won't return thinking the world is overpopulated."

I shook my head. "That isn't what I'm thinking. Besides, I already know overpopulation's a myth. I'm just… pleasantly surprised, I guess."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I've never really had an exact number of kids in mind, but I always assumed I'd end up wanting more than my wife would be willing to have," I admitted sheepishly. "She'd be the one doing most of the work, not me."

Allanah smiled thoughtfully. "True. But in my experience, physical discomfort isn't necessarily what makes women hesitant to have more kids. It's their husbands' attitude and level of involvement – or lack thereof," she cocked her head slightly, pressing her lips. "Let's face it, most husbands are slackers around the house. They're like an extra child themselves. No woman wants more children on top of that, not if she's the only one acting like an adult and picking up the slack."

"I never thought of it like that before," I chuckled. "But that sounds about right."

She nodded, smirking. "I've always found it silly that women choose men like that in the first place. I guess it's the classic _'he'll change once he's married'_ mentality," she snorted. "Please. How many more generations of beer-bellied couch potatoes will it take before women realize that's just a hopeless fantasy?"

I had to laugh again. "Wow, you don't pull any punches, do you?"

"Sorry," she bit her lip. "I'm really not as superficial as that sounds. Work ethic matters more to me than physique."

"Well that's a relief. You had me worried I'd have to maintain _this_ until my dying breath," I patted my stomach.

"Oh no. Although, I certainly wouldn't mind if you did," she added coyly.

My eyebrows rose an inch. "Is that so? Then let me remind you that you'll be the one feeding me. Better find some low-fat recipes that actually taste good too. That should be as much of a challenge as my own workouts," I grinned.

What I'd expected would continue our flirtatious banter suddenly turned her cold. "So you've got this all planned, huh? I'll be the perfect fifties housewife while you run around with the good ol' boys all day?" she crossed her arms indignantly, narrowing her eyes.

"Uh, that's not what I meant," I rubbed my neck. "You can do whatever you want. It's just… I suck at cooking," I tried to smile sheepishly. "I'd either starve to death or lose all my hair from malnutrition if I cooked for myself."

Her face relaxed. "Sorry again. I'm used to people assuming I don't have any aspirations just because I want a lot of kids."

"That's understandable," I shrugged. "Most people can't think outside the box, so they figure nobody else can either."

"Exactly!" much to my relief, her face lit up. "It doesn't have to be so black and white. If you're smart about it, you can have the best of both worlds without compromising either one."

"And being smart includes picking a decent, hard-working spouse who won't sit on his ass all weekend, right?"

Her smile erupted at this and she clapped twice. "You've got it!"

"See? We understand each other completely. No need to worry about ulterior 'fifties housewife' motives," I smirked.

She grew somewhat sober as her laughter faded. "So just to be clear, we'd be a team – working together fifty-fifty, each of us giving a hundred and ten percent to our relationship? Day in and day out, no exceptions?"

"That's my plan," I said simply. "That's how I was raised."

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, she studied me for a minute, her expression an odd mixture of admiration, amusement and skepticism.

"So with an attitude as golden as that, how are you still available?"

I almost choked at the question. "Ah, well, to be honest, there was someone else several years ago. Her name was Bella."

"I see. And what happened with her?"

If Allanah recognized the signs of discomfort in my body language, she withheld her sympathy. Was she testing me?

"We were… best friends for a while," I began, fighting the urge to squirm more than I already was. "Then things got complicated. I wanted something more, and she was on the verge of wanting it too, but then Edward came back."

Allanah's eyes widened slightly. "Who's Edward?"

I rubbed my eyes and let out an exasperated laugh. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"That's my plan," she quipped with smug satisfaction.

I shook my head, already recognizing what a perfect match she was for me. "Fine. If you must know, Edward's a bloodsucker."

Just as I'd hoped, my bluntness stunned her temporarily. No doubt it was the last thing she'd expected to hear, and its bold delivery only amplified the shock value. Just when she thought she'd backed me into a sensitive, awkward corner, I pushed her into one of her own.

"_What?_ That's… insane!" she gasped, no trace of amusement on her face now.

"That's what I kept trying to tell her," I laughed to myself. "We argued back and forth forever, but she wouldn't change her mind. And you know what the best part is?"

She simply stared at me in alarm, bracing herself for the next shock.

"She married him."

Allanah's neck contorted as if strangled by an unseen hand. "I – I think I'm gonna be sick," she whimpered, and by the pasty complexion of her cheeks, I was half inclined to believe her.

"Sorry, but you asked," I reminded her coolly. "Oh, I almost forgot one last thing. They have three children together."

This time I genuinely feared she might vomit all over the living room carpet. Grasping a nearby plastic trashcan, I placed it at her feet and prepared myself to hold her hair back if necessary. Yet instead of leaning over it, she slid back in the opposite direction, sinking ever more deeply into the couch cushions as she rubbed her temples.

"That is absolutely the most twisted, disturbing thing I've ever heard," she proclaimed without opening her eyes. "You've got to be making that up, just to get a reaction from me."

I laughed loudly at her accusation. "Believe me, I wish it were only a crazy story. I used to wake up every morning wishing I'd dreamed it all, and that _that_ day would start everything over. But it never did. Eventually I just had to suck it up and accept things as they were, crazy or not."

Rubbing her eyes once more, Allanah willed herself to look at me, her expression unreadable. At least I couldn't detect any skepticism or denial in her features anymore. That was progress of some sort. "I guess truth really is stranger than fiction," she finally whispered.

"You already knew that. Werewolves qualify as strange, I'm pretty sure," I winked.

"That's true," she agreed with a smile so faint I almost missed it. "I guess I should be used to it by now."

"I'll say, especially since you and Bella really aren't so different."

She glared at me in alarm again. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just that you'll both be married to a mythological creature."

"Ugh," she pinched her lips as if tasting something sour. "_Creatur_e? That might be an accurate term for a bloodsucker, but not you."

I smiled, shrugging. "Thanks, but that doesn't change the fact that you and Bella have something in common, like it or not. Neither of you ended up with an average guy."

"That's for sure. An average guy wouldn't handle losing Bella to someone like Edward as well as you have."

"Don't go thinking I'm a saint," I warned, raising my hand. "It took me a long time to get over it. A really long time," I assured her. "But that's all in the past. You're all that matters now."

Silence fell over us as I waited for her to respond. When at last she did, it was with an almost mystified tint to her eyes.

"It's hard to believe we've only been talking for fifteen minutes, yet I feel like we've spent the entire day together," she remarked. "Or maybe it's even more than that. It almost feels like we're already married, that we've been inside each other's heads for years. Well, I guess you _have_ already been inside mine," she blushed slightly. "But for me, it comes down to two things. First, I'm blown away by everything about you, and I'm kind of speechless that you actually imprinted on me. I… always dreamed it would happen someday, but the older I got, the more cynical I became."

Not wanting to interrupt her, I merely smiled and rested my hand on her knee.

Drawing a somewhat anxious breath, she continued. "And second, what I said about already feeling married… it's hard to describe, but the more I think about it, the more it rings true. Geez, I hope I don't freak you out again by saying that," she frowned self-consciously.

"I was never freaked out to begin with, remember?" I reminded her with a smirk. "You keep forgetting this isn't a typical first date where we've got to watch what we say. We already know we're destined to be together, so what's there to be freaked out about?"

She swallowed hard and I could smell adrenaline shoot through her endocrine system in a burst. "Sure, it's obvious that we'll be getting married, but _when_ that will happen isn't quite as obvious," her hands fidgeted in her lap like fish thrashing on the deck of a boat.

"You want to set a date?" If that's what she wanted, I couldn't think of any reason to delay it.

Her nervous laughter confused me. "Um, you could say so," she gulped, feebly trying to steady the nerves in her hands. "I may not have freaked you out yet, but there's still one more trick up my sleeve."

"Just tell me already," I tried not to sound too impatient, but my curiosity at an all-time high, and seeing her this agitated was activating my protective instincts.

The air between us sparked with anticipation. "How about… today?"

Barely above a squeak, her voice might have gone unheard by someone with average hearing. As it was, I hesitated before responding, not entirely sure I'd heard it correctly. "What was that?"

"Today," she repeated a decibel louder.

Okay, so I _had_ heard her correctly. But that didn't clarify her meaning. "What _about_ to–"

The rest of my question caught in my teeth, slamming up against them as my mind screeched to a halt. "You mean… get married _today?_" my jaw hung open in absolute shock.

She groaned, looking somewhat nauseated again. "Now I've really done it… I knew it was only a matter of time before I scared the living crap out of you."

Scared wouldn't be the term I'd use. Winded was more like it. It felt like someone had vacuumed all the air from my lungs and brain in under two seconds, leaving me to gasp my way back to a state of being able to think critically. Oxygen gradually sparked my brain cells back to life as I drew a few deep breaths. Acutely aware of Allanah monitoring every twitch of my face, my only goal was to latch on to the first sane thought that fired.

If not today, then when? A month from now? Next spring? The possibilities seemed fairly endless. Or were we bound to follow Sam and Emily's lead by buffering our wedding day a full year after imprinting? Did there exist some unwritten code that demanded it? Sam had never mentioned any guidelines or standards in that regard. Come to think of it, he never really explained their reasons for having a year-long engagement. To be honest, I'd always wondered why they even bothered; I ultimately blamed Emily's desire for a lavish wedding for pushing the date back.

Obviously, if Allanah was suggesting we elope today, she wasn't interested in anything extravagant. While that boded well for the future health of our bank accounts, financial matters were only part of the equation. Were we ready emotionally and psychologically for this? At just 21 and 22, was it wise to rush into such a sacred, permanent bond, especially when we've barely known each other a few hours?

Another couple in identical circumstances would never dream of considering marriage this afternoon. Then again, how identical could the circumstances be if the couple wasn't imprinted as we were? Didn't that alter common sense in radical ways? How could we apply typical rationale in a situation that inherently defied it? All the usual concerns – temperamental compatibility, physical chemistry, character integrity and commitment – were all effectively settled the instant I imprinted. Our future, then, didn't involve testing these parameters, but rather letting them simply unfold in predestined harmony.

And then there was the prospect of having a family as soon as nine months from now...

My brain ached under the mass of all these thoughts. Rubbing my eyes, I blinked them open to rediscover Allanah's face. And in that instant, in a flash quicker than any vampire's reflexes, all the questions vanished and I had my answer.

"Let's do it," I broke the silence with such small yet powerful words.

Allanah seemed frozen against the arm of the couch. "You really want to?" she said quietly.

No force of nature could keep me from grinning like a mental patient. "Yes. Let's fly to Vegas tonight."

"But… what about you and Sam heading out to warn that coven?"

"I have no intention of disobeying his orders," I replied smoothly. "But he never specified exactly when we'd be going. There's no harm delaying it a couple days. Besides, I'm positive they've already seen the visions themselves."

I found it amusing that despite initially proposing this wild idea, she now seemed to be the one in need of convincing and reassurance. "If you're sure you won't get in trouble…"

"Allanah, there's nothing Sam can threaten me with that would keep me from doing this. He's not a cruel person. And he knows I've imprinted. It'd be pretty hypocritical of him to punish me for running off with you."

If he so much as gave me the stink eye when Allanah and I returned, I'd be quick to remind him of the unpleasant mess he made by ditching Leah years ago. He was the last person qualified to judge me for acting under the influence of imprinting.

Prepared to justify my plan further if need be, I waited for the next concern to be voiced. Yet two minutes passed without another peep from her. The next thing I knew, she was looking at me not with hesitant indecision, but with radiantly glowing cheeks.

"If we leave now, we should get there in time to watch the sunset," she squealed.


	14. Chapter 14: Junk Food

_At last, the long-awaited return! The Star Wars story I wrote during the intermission is complete. It was just what I needed. Thanks for everyone's patience... hope it was worth the wait. ;)_

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**Chapter 14: Junk Food**

**Bella**

The lightest drizzle began to fall as Charlie and Cindy stooped to hug Miles and Ivy with a farewell kiss on each one's cheek.

"You two behave now. And don't try getting out of your baths tonight, you both need them," Cindy brushed some half-dried mud that had jumped from Miles' jacket onto hers. Having spent the afternoon exploring the yard's muddiest depressions, he and his sister giggled at their filthy clothes.

"I nominate grandma and grandpa for that job," Edward teased. "After all, they were your partners in crime. They helped you find the mud – they can help you get rid of it."

"Oh no, we'll leave the honor to you. Wouldn't want to steal one of your favorite pastimes," Charlie countered with facetious enthusiasm.

Using my fingernail to scrape what I could off Miles' shoulder, I just shook my head. "You're too generous, Dad. But thanks for coming over, the kids had a blast, as anyone can tell."

"Anytime," he gave a lopsided grin. "Same time next Saturday?"

"Sure, we'll see you then," my arm waved alongside Edward's. We watched wet gravel cling to their tires as they disappeared into the blue-gray folds of the forest, and then retreated into the house and up the stairs with two grubby toddlers at our heels.

Aside from the unsavory task of scrubbing dirt from every square inch of their bodies, their filthy adventure had its advantages. Both lacked the energy to put up any resistance to bedtime. With one last feeding for Damien shortly afterward, we at last found ourselves completely, blissfully alone as night cast its romantic spell. Evenings like this required no verbal communication between us. The slightest wink, the subtlest brush of fingers against the other's forearm spoke a language that evaded translation.

Tonight, however, the afterglow of our passion didn't keep me drugged as deeply as it usually did. Edward would only offer guttural sounds in response to anything I said at this point, but that didn't deter me. Tracing the contours of his chest as my bare torso and limbs pressed against his, I let words trickle from my tongue like rain down a waxy leaf.

"Can you believe this is only their fourth weekend coming over? They were so nervous at first… but now it feels like we've been doing this for months already."

"Mmm," was the lazy response.

"I hate to admit it, but Alice was right. Life is so much better now that Charlie and Cindy know," I murmured. "I've almost forgotten what it was like before."

We both lay in contented silence for a moment. Yet I was in an undeniably chatty mood, and it wasn't long before I opened my mouth again.

"How do you think the others like it? Obviously Alice does, but what about Rosalie, for instance?"

"Hmm… it could be worse, all things considered," he said with eyes closed.

"What sort of thoughts have you picked up from her lately?"

His eyes slit open a fraction. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Why are you so concerned about her now?"

Sighing, I rolled onto my back. "I've been thinking a lot about talents. You, Alice and Jasper all have them, and I suppose Carlisle's tolerance for blood counts too, but what about Emmett and Rosalie? Sure, Emmett's strong, but that doesn't distinguish him that much from other vampires."

Edward nodded, prompting me to continue.

"And I really don't have any talents either. You once joked that my easy transition from human to vampire was a talent, but I can't help feeling that Rosalie and I have something in common," I paused. "Except I have children and she doesn't. We may both be talentless, but at least I have some consolation, a distraction from my missing pieces. She doesn't."

Edward contemplated my words. "You're right. I've often wondered why some vampires don't possess any talents. I wish I had an explanation."

"Well, _I _wish there was something we could do for her, but I can't think of anything that wouldn't make her feel more self-conscious."

"Bella, don't worry too much over it," he said gently. "It's good that you care, but she's doing fine. Trust me."

"Really?"

"I've sensed a shift in Rosalie over the years. She's not nearly as bitter as she once was."

I had no reason to doubt him since he had no reason to be dishonest with me. Rosalie's envy was never some shameful family secret everyone downplayed. As incredible as it seemed, Edward's report had to be true. Yet for reasons I couldn't identify, I still felt marginally unsettled about the situation. Without a legitimate counterargument, though, all I could do was purse my lips and let Edward's declaration stand.

As it was, he'd already moved on from the topic and was absently scratching his head. "So what's next on tonight's agenda? A little chess? Go fish?" he nudged me with his elbow, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. But then my expression turned into a slight frown. "I could go for a snack, actually. I'm pretty hungry."

He blinked. "We were just hunting two days ago."

"I know, I haven't forgotten," I scowled defensively. "But apparently my stomach has. Are you saying you don't believe me?"

"No… I guess not," he said uncertainly. "It's just surprising. You've always been able to go at least a week."

I appreciated his tone about as much as the dry, searing thirst running down my throat. Pushing myself up with a huff, I threw on the first set of clothes I came across.

"You can stay here and daydream about my past behavior all night, or you can join me," I announced frostily, grabbing a pair of hiking boots on my way out the door. "I was looking for your company, not your approval."

He'd caught up to me by the time I reached the foot of the staircase. With a brief word to Carlisle and Esme, who were bent over the house expansion blueprints yet again, we were out the door in tense unison.

The cool night air tasted good. I could tell instantly that the wind and humidity conditions were ideal for hunting. No doubt Edward sensed this too, but based on his earlier scoffing, he likely wouldn't be taking advantage of it. That was fine by me. He didn't have to mimic my actions tonight, just not criticize them.

Thankfully he kept silent as we prowled the forest, keeping stride with every crouch and weave I executed. But I knew my husband well enough to know the difference between content silence and reluctant silence. This was undeniably the latter. What was his problem? What did it matter if my appetite returned more quickly for once? It affected neither him nor anyone else in our family. The local animal population might feel some impact, but it wasn't as though anything was in imminent danger of extinction. Especially considering that I was craving…

Rabbit. Oh, sweet heavens above… the sight of a plump, light gray rabbit burrowing under a bush made my salivary glands explode with venom. One millisecond later, the overwhelming pleasure of its warm, savory blood was mine.

So great was the euphoria that I all but forgot Edward hovering behind me. He remained dutifully quiet while I drained the small animal, but when I finally turned around, his face was anything but mute.

"You just ate a _rabbit_," he said with disgust, disbelief, and contempt.

"Your powers of observation are astounding," I replied sardonically. "_You're_ certainly a vampire of many talents."

He took two steps toward me, still looking at the rabbit carcass with unconcealed horror. "Bella, you've _never_ liked rabbit. None of us do. It's… cheap and tasteless, to say the least."

"So? What's your point?" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. His reaction was irritating, but not nearly as grating as it would've been with my hunger in full force.

"Don't you find this a little strange?"

I shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, I'm sure."

"That's beside the point. You made a poor choice, nutritionally speaking."

His undue criticism was starting to get under my skin now. Standing as I flung the rabbit aside, I decided there was no better place to shout out our differences than the middle of a forest.

"I've had just about enough of your snide judgment! First you sneer at my unjustified hunger, and now you condemn my food? _Really?_ Is this what Carlisle taught you a hundred years ago?" I stood inches away from him now. "Did he tell you that vampire junk food will make us fat, just like regular junk food will to humans? Is that it?"

Angry as I was, I didn't know what to make of the indecision that flashed briefly in Edward's eyes. "He's never told me that, no," he answered unevenly.

"Exactly! Vampires can't become overweight or unhealthy, Edward! So who cares what I eat or don't eat?"

"I do," his brow pinched in consternation. "This just isn't like you, Bella. Including your temper right now. None of this is rational, and I'm concerned. It's all come out of nowhere."

"Deal with it! If I'm not endangering my health, then your opinion is irrelevant."

Indecision returned to his eyes. Glancing down, he suddenly seemed uncomfortable looking at any point on my body.

"That's the thing. Bella, I'm not sure how to say this…" he swallowed, clearly uneasy. "But as your husband, I have to be honest with you. We've always been unreservedly honest with each other, have we not?"

I tried to bury the alarm I felt by crossing my arms indignantly. "No, we haven't. Or I should say _you_ haven't. Another forest argument comes to mind. One where you said you didn't want me?"

"Since we've been _married_, then," he winced slightly.

"Then yes," I conceded.

"So in keeping with the past four years of honesty, I have to tell you something. Believe me when I say I don't mention it for superficial reasons, but as a health concern…" he slowly brought his gaze to rest on me, though I didn't understand why he was still looking down. "Have you noticed any changes in your body lately?"

The absurdity of the question had me drawing a blank. "What?"

"So help me, if I were any other man I'd get killed for this," he muttered under his breath. "You asked me if Carlisle ever said 'junk food' could make us fat. And he never has. It's been my understanding that our bodies can never change shape. We're supposed to be permanently preserved like statues."

I made sure to convey my boredom and impatience nonverbally.

"Ugh, there's no sense drawing this out… I'm a dead man either way," he groaned. "Bella, I wasn't going to say anything, but given your strange behavior tonight, I feel compelled to. I've noticed… your stomach changing."

At first his words sounded like nonsense. Nonetheless, the natural response was to let my own gaze fall to the area in question. All I saw was plain white fabric stained by a few droplets of rabbit blood. I simply stared like an idiot, waiting for Edward to explain himself.

"Well? Do you see?" he asked with fearful hesitation.

"See what?"

Throwing all pride and caution to the wind, he placed a cold palm against my abdomen, moving it to reaffirm his suspicions. "_This._ You honestly haven't noticed it?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You're… _bigger_," he said through a grimace. "Not conspicuously, and not in an unattractive way, but the fact is it _shouldn't be happening_," he quickly added, anticipating a backlash. "Not to a vampire. Not to a statue. Do you understand? I'm worried about you… the same as if you were still human and had a persistent rash, or a mole that looked cancerous."

His information wasn't quite processing correctly. I was bigger? Since when? And by how many millimeters? He had to be mistaken, oversensitive or seeing things askew.

"Are you sure?" I frowned, skeptically placing my hand next to his.

"Very sure," he almost chuckled. "You may not realize this, but I've long memorized your body. There isn't a single curve or indent I'm not fully acquainted with."

"More so than _I_ am?"

Sighing, he withdrew his hand and thought a moment. "You've had a lot to adjust to the past few months. Damien's birth, your transformation, Charlie and Cindy integrating fully into our lives. You've been distracted. Anyone else in your position might have just as easily missed it."

"So I'm supposed to take your word for it? Without any evidence or proof?" I crossed my arms, feeling uncomfortably scrutinized at last.

"Just humor me for now," he pleaded. "It won't hurt to have Carlisle examine you. If nothing comes of it, then you can laugh at me all you want. But if there's even the slightest chance that something is wrong, I'll risk humiliation."

Aside from my own humiliation under Carlisle's assessment, I couldn't refuse his request. After all, this exam might indeed reveal an anomaly – an anomaly with Edward's eyesight, anyway.

"Fine," I relented. "Does it have to happen right now, or can I eat more first? That is, if you don't think it will make me morbidly obese?"

Shaking his head, he granted me half a smile. "At least we know your wit is still in perfect health."


	15. Chapter 15: Talent

**Chapter 15: Talent**

**Bella**

Edward wasn't the only one I'd learned to read like a book after all my years in the Cullen household. Even Carlisle, thoroughly skilled in the art of neutral expressions, had grown as easy as large print. Sometimes I wondered why he even bothered with professional façades anymore. They were about as pointless as Edward's concerns.

At least, that's what I thought before scanning Carlisle's body language as I lay on his exam table. What I saw led me to believe a meteor was hurtling toward our exact location at five hundred miles per hour.

"I… I'm sorry, I need to sit down," he reached behind him for the stool, fumbling with the backrest to bring it closer.

Not even the faintest attempt to maintain neutrality. If a meteor wasn't coming, I didn't want to know what was. Of slight consolation was the fact that Edward wasn't present to share my alarm. He'd granted me privacy as a gesture of faith and optimism. How bitterly ironic I should be without either now.

"Carlisle, what is it?" I started to sit up but reconsidered. For all I knew, moving might aggravate the problem, whatever it was.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Which was no small feat for someone technically dead, and whose face could only be one shade of pale. Staring blankly at the space between us, he either hadn't heard me or purposely ignored my question.

"Edward! Come up here!"

I barely had time to blink before he blurred to a stop at the foot of my bed. Immediately he searched me for any indication of knowledge, good or bad. Finding nothing but ignorance in my features, he turned to Carlisle with bated breath. That breath caught in his throat when he saw his father's stricken face staring up at him.

"How bad is it?" Edward clenched a fist against my dire prognosis.

For a moment, Carlisle seemed incapable of responding. His eyes had gone blank except for what appeared to be a strangely bemused gleam. Eventually that gleam spilled over into a wan smile, then a baffled grin, and finally reduced him to shaking his head in astonishment.

"Well, I can't answer that," he said at last, throwing one hand in the air. "Only you can."

Edward and I shared equally perplexed looks.

Carlisle continued shaking his head as he swiveled a monitor around to face us. "I'm not in a position to call this good _or_ bad, since I'm not the one who's about to add two new members to my immediate family."

My mouth ran dry at the sight before me. I could only imagine Edward's did as well.

The image on the pixilated, blue-gray screen was neither fearsome nor complex. Nor was it unfamiliar. In fact, we'd seen so many similar images that one would expect us to exchange seasoned looks of acknowledgment and be done with it.

And we might have, had circumstances been ever so slightly different.

Had I been _human_ and pregnant with twins, instead of a vampire in the same situation.

Such a minor difference, really. It was almost silly to think of it. Did it really matter if the two tiny blobs on screen were growing via a normal blood supply, or if they were defying every known law of nature? They obviously didn't care, so why should we? Why split hairs?

I felt the uncontrollable need to burst out laughing. Unbridled, semi-psychotic, high-pitched laughter like you'd hear in the innermost halls of an insane asylum. It might have escaped if not for the glimpse I caught of Edward's face. All my laughter tumbled down into my stomach, where it settled into a thick, heavy glob.

"Explain what I'm seeing," Edward commanded flatly. His eyes hadn't blinked since entering the room, and it looked as though the lids might never close again.

"What you see is what you get," Carlisle quipped. "You've seen it before, and not so long ago. You can't have already forgotten."

Walking stiffly forward with leaden feet, Edward came within two feet of the digital image.

"It… can't be…"

"Don't think I haven't told myself that a hundred times in the past five minutes," Carlisle replied. "I couldn't fabricate this if I tried."

Somehow the connection between my body and the screen hadn't fully engaged for me yet. Like Edward, I was utterly unable to look anywhere else, but my fixation was more fanciful than anything else. The image was quaint, pleasant to look at. Part of my brain was feverishly trying to throttle me into realization, while another part was working just as feverishly to keep me in detached denial.

I watched Edward's fingertips make cautious contact with the screen. He seemed light years away as he traced the gently pulsing movements, which seemed all the more impossible due to lack of sound. No heartbeats drummed from the machine.

"Two…" he whispered in awe.

"Yes. It wasn't enough for you to just stun me with _one_," Carlisle stood to place a hand on his son's shoulder.

"How?" Edward sounded lost, helpless.

"If I knew that, I'd expect to find the cure for cancer next," Carlisle glanced down at me, eyes smiling. "You two never cease to amaze me."

Recognizing Edward's need to grip the situation on his own, he reached for his clipboard and turned to me.

"Needless to say, this has never occurred in recorded history. I'm going to be honest with you, Bella – I'm no more prepared for this than either of you are."

It was as much of an apology as an advisory. I let the import gradually sink in.

"So… you can't tell me anything? When they'll be born, how I'll feel?"

"I can give you my best estimate for the due date, but it could very well be off," he warned. "Right now, I'd say it might happen in two months."

He flipped a page over and pressed his lips. "As for how you'll feel, your guess is as good as mine. The fact that you haven't felt much different so far is a good sign. You've only noticed a change in appetite, correct?"

I nodded. "If Edward had been less observant, I might have been clueless right up until I gave birth."

"Oh, I doubt that," he chuckled. "But if you haven't felt weak or fatigued yet, that bodes well. Of course, you know to alert me if anything changes."

Maybe it was audacious of me, but my nerves had never felt cooler. After all, what did a virtually invincible creature have to fear? As far as I was concerned, the worst had already happened with Damien. Nothing could debilitate me in that way again. Not these children, who were the product of two fully compatible parents. This pregnancy might violate every universal law, but for once, it would actually develop in harmony with my body, not in spite of it.

Edward's state of mind, meanwhile, wasn't clear enough to read. His eyes and jaw continued to hang equally open. Neither Carlisle nor I seemed to know how to cut through the awkward, suffocating tension.

Carlisle cleared his throat and stepped toward the door. "I guess I'll leave you two. Don't hesitate to call if you have any questions or concerns," he added as a matter of professional course.

I may have given a slight nod to this, but I was too centered on Edward to avert my eyes from him. He looked much like Carlisle had five minutes ago – pale from systemic shock, as though he'd seen a ghost. I was glad not to require oxygen anymore; I'd have passed out from holding my breath otherwise.

"Are… you all right?" I finally whispered, my brain empty of anything else.

One hand passed over his chin, trailed across both cheeks, and then pressed his eyelids shut with a sigh. It sounded unlike any sigh to ever escape his lips. In its thin stream of air traveled a million particles of the deepest, most primal emotions known to man.

"Are _you_ all right?" his voice was almost a dark laugh.

"I… I think so," I swallowed uncertainly. "I feel fine enough, I guess."

The profound irony that had been tempting him to laugh finally won. Gleaming white teeth appeared, but the mirth behind them was bitter.

"You feel 'fine enough?' Of _course_ you do!" he shouted at the ceiling. "Anyone else would be paralyzed with terror right now, but not Bella Cullen! Nothing scares _my_ wife! Why, she could sprout an extra arm and take it all in stride!"

"Wait, are you saying you're _terrified_ of this? And that I should be too?" I sat up, brow knitted with confusion and indignation. "Edward, I'm not sure you understand certain synonyms. 'Unexpected' and 'impossible' aren't direct substitutes for 'terrifying' or 'horrific.' Or did you forget that after Miles' conception?"

"That's different –"

"How is it any different?" I insisted. "Nobody saw that one coming either. Everyone feared the worst, which ended up not happening until two babies later," I reminded him, my conviction rising. "And now the worst is over. My human life already ended, so what's left to fear?"

"I don't know! That's the point! With the others, we knew the worst case scenario. It came with a release valve – a failsafe we could always turn to. But now that the release valve has been used, all bets are off. It could be two strikes and you're out, Bella."

"Really?" I almost laughed like he did a moment ago. "We both know there's only one way to destroy a vampire, and I highly doubt _they_ –" Edward winced as I pointed at the screen, "– are capable of it just yet."

His clenched jaw proved he was unconvinced. Yet at the same time, something in his eyes betrayed him. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, joy was boiling beneath his fear. I could almost smell it mingling with my own tentative elation.

"They might not tear you limb from limb, but this is uncharted territory. Even more than Miles, Ivy, or Damien were," he lowered himself onto Carlisle's stool. "There was at least some documentation of a human-vampire pregnancy in the past. But this… there's zero precedent for this, Bella. Not even one instance in all of recorded history. If there's a first time for this, there's a first time for whatever complications it may bring."

"Oh please, if I ever hear the word 'complications' again, I swear I'll punch a hole in the wall!" I rolled my eyes. "Edward, listen to me. I feel perfectly fine. Aside from the rabbit cravings, nothing out of the ordinary is happening. If these babies really are a poisonous force to be reckoned with, I'd expect far worse problems than having my husband turn up his nose at my midnight snack."

"It's early yet. You've still got two months."

"Yes, but Carlisle said it's a good sign regardless. Are you going to question his expertise too? He was accurate enough when it came to the other three."

Something happened in that moment. Instead of inciting more resistance on his part, my words had almost the opposite effect. Edward's shoulders dropped rather than stiffened. His transition from defensive to humble left me dumbstruck.

"Three…" he repeated the last word to himself. "And two..."

Suddenly I understood. "Edward, you're not really worried about my health, are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Five…" he mumbled like a mental patient.

"Yes, five," I reached for his arm. "It seems overwhelming, I know. But it's what we've been given. We'll make it work."

He was staring at my stomach now, lost within himself as he pondered the full impact.

"It's not the number that worries me," he said after a long minute. "We know nothing of what they'll be like. There's no human DNA to settle their tempers this time. If we can't control or train them… or if the Volturi find out…" his head dropped in conflicted despair.

I understood instantly. "You're thinking of immortal children?"

"Yes. And you know the penalty for that," his eyes darkened. "Unless you've forgotten about Sasha."

I hadn't. A flood of desperate scenarios filled my mind – everything from an underground compound to an island encircled by impassible barricades. No idea, no matter how outrageous or insane, would be discounted when it came to protecting these children. If that's what it took to prevent them from harming society or themselves, then so be it. We'd cross that bridge if need be.

I shared as much with Edward and awaited his response. By the look of his glassy eyes, though, his tongue couldn't rise against the staggering weight of our unknown future.

"I'm scared too," I whispered reluctantly.

"Scared?" he scoffed. "_Scared_ is how Miles feels when he sees a snake in the yard! Ivy's scared during thunderstorms! What you and I are feeling right now, and are about to feel in the coming months, doesn't even have an English translation!" he pressed the heels of both fists against his eyes, pacing between me and the window.

My mouth opened but no wisdom could be dredged from the well of my heart. Somewhere in its distant recesses, a half memory, a translucent instinct tried to sputter to life. With a silent gasp, I recognized it: faith. Yet I fled from it in the same instant, as though I'd been scalded from the brief contact. What madness was this? Faith had no business here. Not now that it had finally met a worthy opponent.

"Fine, scared isn't the right word," I swallowed in defeat. "But even if the right word existed, it wouldn't change anything."

"It might help me not feel so powerless. I mean really… I can't see this coming in the first place, I can't know what the full consequences are, and hell, I can't even _label_ the effect it's having on me!" his smile was unnerving to say the least. Half-crazed and on the brink of completely losing touch. "I'd take just about _anything_ to feel the least bit in control!"

"Control is a luxury we don't always have," I said quietly. "Humans are used to having little control over life, but vampires expect better. I get that. With all our talents and power, there shouldn't be anything we can't control, right?"

His frown said it all. I'd hit the nail on the head.

"Then here's your chance to relive a little of the human experience," I smirked. "You're always wishing you could have it back."

He smirked bitterly in return. "That's one of way of looking at it."

A knock on the door interrupted our resolution. Who else but Alice poked her mischievous head in.

"Carlisle just told us the news," her eyes danced. "I'm speechless. Not only because you beat the odds, but because you've done something so miraculous that even _I_ couldn't see it coming!"

"Thanks Alice," I laughed. "It was all just to mystify you!"

"Sure it was," she winked. "You do realize what this means, don't you?"

"Carlisle needs to really start moving on that house addition?" Edward offered.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I meant," Alice cocked her head. "Bella, I'd say we found your talent!"

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_Edward's comment about Bella sprouting an extra arm was an acknowledgment of her "Mary Sue" qualities. While it's no secret that I promote self-sacrifice and sacrificial love, even I have to admit her character can be a little too perfect at times. I try to offset that as best I can. Hope I don't fail too badly…_


	16. Chapter 16: Interlude

_Not sure how many people are still reading/interested in this story, judging by the meager reviews it's getting lately... if you're enjoying it, speak up and let me know! :)_

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**Chapter 16: Interlude **

**Bella**

My "talent" grew at the pace Carlisle estimated. Just two weeks after that fateful ultrasound, it took a little extra effort to see my feet. Edward swore he could see me growing by the hour. But if I was expanding by the hour, his fears were also dissipating hourly. His psychological state seemed to improve in direct proportion to every inch I gained. Soon he was acting as he had during Miles' and Ivy's pregnancies, reveling in feeling the twins fidget beneath my skin.

Charlie and Cindy received the news as well as could be expected. At least they took it better than the vampire revelation. Though understandably hesitant to jump for joy, given the uncharted territory of vampiric pregnancy, they were excited at the prospect of twins.

Soon my only problem was lack of proper, stylish maternity clothes. Esme and Rosalie had donated my entire collection during my month-long transition, wanting to save me time and trouble. Little had any of us known how premature their actions would prove to be.

No matter. It was nothing Alice couldn't cure with her famous fashion therapy. So on a brilliantly sunny day in mid-summer, we stepped out in sunglasses and smiles, wielding our credit cards like wands. Seldom had I enjoyed a carefree afternoon in downtown Seattle like this one. Every sidewalk shop and bistro burst with color, the air was warm but refreshing, and the world brimmed with life.

The world was also small. Very, very small. I realized this when I exited a dressing room and found myself face-to-face with Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber. The three of us shared the same wide-eyed, astonished expression, which quickly turned into giggling and fluttering hugs.

"Oh my gosh, how have you been?!"

"What are the odds?"

"I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Oh Bella, look at you!" Jessica gasped, taking in my belly. "Guess I shouldn't have hugged you so hard!"

I laughed. _As if either of them could possibly squeeze me too hard!_ "It's fine, Jess. I can't believe my luck, running into the two of you! How are you both?"

"We're great… but not as great as _you!_" Angela gushed. "Congratulations! See, _this_ is why you need a Facebook account… it's not okay to leave your friends in the dark on things like this!"

_Just what I need, a Facebook account where all my pictures prove I don't age,_ I thought with another laugh.

"Is this your first?" Jessica asked.

"No," I braced for their reactions. "I already have three at home. And these are twins," I cupped my stomach.

The look that passed between my two high school friends was priceless.

"FIVE children?!" Angela's jaw dropped.

"Wow, you and Edward sure didn't waste any time!" Jessica exclaimed, looking more envious than anything. "And look at you, no saggy boobs or extra junk in the trunk… it's not fair!"

"You really do look amazing," Angela concurred, though with less jealousy than her shopping companion, whom she elbowed when she remembered something. "You know who'd drop dead at the sight of her? Mike Newton!"

Jessica looked positively fiendish upon hearing her old crush's name. "How right you are! And do you know where you'd see him, Bella?"

"No…"

"At the high school reunion next week!"

"There's a reunion?" I blinked. "It's only been four years."

"It's kind of an informal thing. Only people in the area are coming," Jessica explained. "Now that we know you're still around, you're definitely invited!"

"Invited to what?" Alice appeared with a pile of designer clothes draped over one arm.

"A high school reunion," I replied.

"Sounds like we'll be adding another outfit to your 'must-have' list, Bella!" Alice hung her selections in my dressing room before dancing back to the retail jungle.

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Staring at my overflowing closet, I couldn't imagine wearing a third of what Alice insisted I needed. Who was I going to impress? Besides a handful of old classmates, the only people who'd see me over the next several weeks were the Cullens, my dad, and Cindy. None of them would love me any less if I resorted to wearing Edward's stretched-out undershirts.

Not that Edward minded seeing me in fancier ensembles. His admiring eyes took in my curved figure as I modeled the reunion dress Alice had picked out.

"I hope it still fits in one week," I pulled at the waistline, trying to verify there was enough extra fabric.

Walking up behind me without a word, he wrapped both hands around to place them possessively on my swollen stomach. We stared at each other in the mirror.

"I never thought I'd get to see you like this again," he whispered blissfully. "Sometimes I'm overcome with awe. It's amazing."

"Does this mean you're truly happy? You're not afraid anymore?" I laid my hands over his.

"In this moment, yes. Fear is impossible when you're this beautiful."

Sharing in their father's contentment, the twins kicked enthusiastically. "I wish we knew what they were. In terms of gender," I quickly clarified, hoping I hadn't just ruined the moment by dragging his fears up again. To my relief, his expression remained calm.

"It doesn't matter to me. They'll be beautiful inside and out, just like their mother."

Sounds of playful glee floated in through the open window. Out in the yard, Miles and Ivy were chasing bubbles that Emmett and Rosalie formed with giant wands. Their smiles were as bright as the sunshine that bathed the charming scene.

In the crib behind us, Damien stirred from his nap. Edward and I turned to see him stretching with a yawn. At ten weeks old, he was still tiny, though his weight continued to defy his appearance. Edward lifted him and brought him back to face the mirror with me. Damien smiled upon seeing my reflection.

"We make good kids," he stated. "If these three are any indication, the twins should be no trouble."

"Even with no human DNA to balance everything out?" I asked timidly.

"They'll inherit your gentle nature either way. I'm convinced that's what happened with the others," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't give me all the credit. In case you haven't noticed, there aren't too many vegetarian vampires running around. I'd say you also qualify as having a 'gentle nature.'"

He laughed into my hair. "We'll see how gentle I am when I overhear Mike Newton's thoughts at the reunion."

"Hey, give him a break," I teased. "And you never know, he might show up a wealthy businessman with a supermodel on one arm."

"Should that make me jealous?"

I was about to say no, but something made me pause. A nagging, itching thought I'd been trying to ignore for a while. How long exactly I couldn't say. Since Damien's birth? Since Ivy's? It was hard to say, given their rapid-fire arrival and short adjustment period in-between. All I knew now was there was no time like the present to confront it.

"Edward, I almost feel silly bringing this up after so many years, but… did you ever plan on a career? Something constructive outside the home?"

I'd tried to ask it gently, but the look in his eyes revealed a slightly bruised ego. Bouncing Damien in his arms, he pressed his lips while thinking.

"Did you?" he asked simply.

"I don't know… it's different for me. I haven't repeated high school dozens of times. And there's the female stereotype of staying home with kids, which I don't necessarily mind."

"But it's socially awkward to be a stay at home dad, right?"

"That's not what I meant! I just wondered if you were bored_. I_ might be if I were a hundred years old," I explained. "What I'm trying to say is, don't feel obligated to stay home if you want something else. I'd completely understand and support whatever you want to do."

He looked uncomfortable. "I'd rather not discuss this now."

"Why not?" I touched his arm. "We've been married four years, and we have an eternity of anniversaries ahead. If we don't discuss this now, then when?"

Sighing, he placed Damien back in his crib with a stuffed animal. "Fine. I suppose I'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

"What's so awful about a career?"

"It wouldn't be awful if I knew what I wanted in one."

Oh. That explained everything. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

"It's not your fault. _I'm_ the one with chronic indecisiveness."

"Have you talked to Carlisle? He's sure to have wise advice."

"Medical school," Edward smirked. "Always medical school. He forgets not all of us have the tolerance for blood he has."

"So what _do_ you want? What things are you interested in?"

"Everything. Nothing," he sighed again. "That's what happens when you've read every subject known to man – you become jaded, intellectually fatigued. College would just be a patronizing hoop to jump through. There'd be no challenge, no real satisfaction."

"Then it needs to be something dynamic, always evolving and adapting," I thought out loud. "What about medical research? Working with microscopes and petri dishes in a lab wouldn't be so bad."

Shrugging, he stared absently at Miles, who was slobbering his stuffed bear to death. "Maybe. It's something to consider, I guess."

"You'd be good at it. You're very bright, Edward," I said genuinely. "You have a lot to offer. Eternity is a long time to waste your gifts."

A self-conscious smile found his lips. "I'll look into it."

"Good," I smiled in return, kissing his cheek. "And since I'm already upsetting the status quo, I have another question for you."

"Oh, great," he raised an eyebrow.

"Carlisle's put a lot of time and thought into the house addition, but what do you think about getting a place of our own?"

The question clearly caught him off-guard. "Our own place?"

"I just feel guilty. It's one thing to build an extra room, but we're adding _two_ more family members, Edward," I touched my stomach. "At some point, it becomes unfair to everyone else. A family of seven should really have their own space."

Blinking, he ran a hand though is hair. "Seven… you're right. That's what my family was _before_ you moved in. Four years of marriage, and we've doubled that!"

"That we have. So what do you say?"

He glanced out the window at the bubble party below. "It's a good idea, but others might have different opinions on us moving out."

"You don't think any of them will be offended, do you? Especially Carlisle and Esme?" I worried. "I hope they don't take it as a slap in the face, after all they've done for us."

"They'll miss the kids, but they'll understand. It's the others I'm not so sure about."

I didn't have to follow his eyes to know we were both looking at the same person: Rosalie. What he'd said before about her becoming less bitter was true. Her features were nothing but joyous as she chased Miles and Ivy around the yard, tackling them alongside Emmett as all four squealed with laughter. She really had shed her insecurities and bonded with them. And now, after all her progress, we were going to remove them from her environment. I was doomed to feel guilty whether we moved or not, it seemed.

"We'll have to call a family meeting," I remarked.

"Yes, but let's wait until after your reunion. It'll give us a few days to browse property listings and have something concrete to discuss."

I nodded, trying to imagine what it would be like to inhabit our own home, one with half as many vampires coming and going throughout the day. It'd be so quiet. Well, until all five children learned to talk, that was. I'm sure I'd find myself longing for their quiet days of infancy then.

For now, I'd enjoy our final days in this, the house where we became a family. Bittersweet didn't begin to describe the transition. But if I was lucky, next week's reunion would tip the scales toward sweet.

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The reunion was as delicious of a distraction as I hoped. Very few friends and acquaintances failed to make an appearance; it was surprising to see so many lived nearby still. Whether that was testament to Forks' endearing qualities or the current economy, I wasn't sure. I was just glad for a decent turnout.

What made the evening all the more charming was that it unfolded at the same place as prom – with a dress code to match. Everyone came dressed to impress, including Angela and Jessica, who gushed over my appearance just as they had in the dressing room last week.

"Gorgeous and glowing!" Jess extolled. "And Edward, you haven't changed a bit! If I didn't know better I'd say you were cast in stone!"

Behind his smirk, I sensed his urge to burst out laughing. He fidgeted the knot on his tie and glanced away, trying to keep his composure.

"Thanks. Say, is that who I think it is?" he pointed off to his right.

Turning to look, all three of us spotted Mike Newton simultaneously. Pouring some punch at the refreshment table, he raised the cup to his mouth and scanned the room, trying to be suave but looking awkward.

"Mikey!" Edward called out, waving him over.

Mike moved toward the voice with enthusiasm, eager to engage someone in conversation. Yet as the crowd parted and he saw who had spoken – and more importantly, those who _surrounded_ who had spoken – he slowed, looking like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh… hey," he greeted us uncertainly. "Good to see you guys."

I pitied the man. Faced with an ex-girlfriend on one side and an old crush on the other, he'd walked right into a trap. I threw a devilish look at my husband, who knew exactly what he'd done.

"Right back at ya!" Edward replied, shaking Mike's hand with gusto. "Long time no see. What's up?"

"Not too much," Mike tried to read Edward. "Still working at my folks' store. I'm manager now."

"That's great!"

"Yeah… so what about you? I, um, heard you and Bella got married."

He summoned the courage to look at me longer than two seconds this time. Within three seconds, he noticed the obvious. My stomach was stretching the limits of my dress, which had been a bit snug a week ago. And for me, a week was like a month.

"Uh, I guess I heard correctly," he stared openly at the bulge. "C-congratulations."

"That's not the half of it," Jessica spoke up. "They already have three!"

"And these," Edward placed a proud, possessive hand on my belly, "are twins."

Mike looked ill, like he was liable to pass out any moment. He took a big gulp of his drink to steady himself.

"Well that… that's great, it really is," he stuttered from the alcohol rush, raising his cup. "Anyway, Jess, you're looking good as always," he hiccupped.

"Now how could any girl resist drunken pickup lines like that?" she teased. "Keep that up, and you've got a dance partner for when they play Macarena."

"Deal," he gave a lopsided grin before stumbling off with the two girls.

The instant he was out of earshot, I elbowed Edward in the ribs hard enough to make him wince.

"You're so cruel!" I chastised, grinning despite myself.

"Hey, I may not be able to read your mind, but I know what you want," he conspired. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy that!"

"Not half as much as you did, I'm sure! Will you share his thoughts, or are you going to keep the best part to yourself?"

He looked more mischievous than I'd seen him in a long time. "It's nothing you can't guess. Let's just say his naked fantasies of you have been shattered forever."

I clasped a hand over my mouth and swatted him playfully again. "You're terrible."

"Yet you love me anyway," he linked his arm in mine, leading me toward the dance floor with a gleam in his eye. "Now drop the goody-two-shoes act and let's dance."

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_As this chapter's title suggests, this was a fun, light-hearted interlude in the midst of drama. My usual preference. _


	17. Chapter 17: Abduction

_So... I've decided to put this story on the shelf indefinitely. This will be the last chapter I post for who knows how long. It may upset a minority of readers, but it seems most people aren't that jazzed about it anymore... which is fine. I'd rather be writing my next Star Wars story. :P So that's what I'll be doing until further notice. Later!_

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><em>**  
>Chapter 17: Abduction <strong>

**Edward**

Life was unequivocally good. Bella continued to be in outstanding health, and the twins showed no signs of in-utero aggression. Subsequent ultrasounds revealed their gender: two girls. Whether identical or fraternal, we'd discover in time.

Discussing our potential move also went surprisingly well. No one tried to pile on the guilt or discourage us from doing what we thought was best. Miles and Ivy took the news fairly well, although we had to cajole her more than him. Naturally, the older brother would be more excited about getting a room to himself.

Great things were on the horizon, even if a twinge of anxiety sometimes caught me. Our blessings far outnumbered our worries. Alice saw nothing of concern in the near or distant future. Carlisle was mastering makeup techniques that aged him, enabling us to stick around indefinitely. Exploring the potential for a job in medical research was more intriguing than I expected. If all went according to plan, I'd be enrolling in remote UW classes in Port Angeles this fall.

Adding to the boon was a phone call we received from the Denali coven one afternoon, expressing their wish to see Miles, Ivy and Damien in person. The holiday family photo cards we sent them each year just weren't cutting it for them. Their weeklong visit would begin in just three days, we mutually decided. Bella and I decided to withhold news of her pregnancy until they arrived, just for dramatic effect.

Such a grand reunion called for a celebration on par with Miles' last birthday party. So early on the morning of their anticipated arrival, off Alice and I went to procure last-minute decorations and supplies. What would have been an unexceptional trip turned interesting when, stopping by the baby care aisle for shampoo, we encountered none other than Jacob Black.

To say he looked bewildered would be an understatement. Staring at the endless array of diapers, wipes, and sippy cups, he looked like a third-grader trying to solve complex algebra on a chalkboard.

When he didn't react to two vampires standing a yard away, I knew something was definitely amiss. "Jacob?"

He flinched as if shocked by electricity and turned to me with wide, unblinking eyes. I'd never seen him so spooked.

"Edward… hi," he greeted robotically.

"Hi yourself. It's been a while. How is everything?"

You'd think I just asked him what the square root of infinity was.

"You okay?" I was growing concerned.

"Uh… yeah," he said unconvincingly, running a hand through his dark hair. Then, smiling crookedly, he almost laughed. "I'm just a little lost. Where's the… the… um…"

Alice and I exchanged looks. This ought to be good, considering we were surrounded by baby supplies.

"…stretch mark cream?"

I couldn't have heard him right. Could I?

"Come again?"

A few other shoppers were trickling around the corner. Jake eyed them nervously. "Please don't make me say it again. Do you know where it is or don't you?"

I did, although it'd been a while since I'd purchased it. Bella had used it religiously with Miles and Ivy, but was too incapacitated for such vanity with Damien. It was moot now since lotion couldn't penetrate vampire skin, and we had every reason to believe her body would go back to "normal" on its own anyway.

Walking a little further down, I scanned the shelves for what I hoped would look familiar – not that finding it would solve the mystery of why Jacob wanted it. Was it rude to ask? Or was satisfying my curiosity reasonable payment for helping him?

At last I found the jars, whose labels bore some resemblance to those of years ago. _Stupid re-branding and repackaging._

"Here you go," I handed it to him. "Forgive me for asking, but why do you want this? You're not pregnant, are you?" I joked.

Swallowing, his eyes darted once again to the other shoppers. "No… my wife is."

It was my turn to stare blankly. "Your _wife?!_"

"Yeah," he smiled sheepishly and glanced at the contents of his basket. Nestled inside were a bottle of prenatal vitamins, a pregnancy magazine, and jar of pickles. "Life's been pretty crazy since I imprinted."

Stunned didn't begin to describe my response. Imprinted? Married? Expecting? Was this the same Jacob I'd spoken to on the phone with just four months earlier? My family wasn't the only one experiencing rapid life adjustments, apparently.

"I'll say! Congratulations on everything, old boy. Who's the lucky lady?"

"Her name's Allanah. She's a Makah from up north, one of Emily's cousins. We met a month ago when…" horror painted his face suddenly. "Oh, shit! I _knew_ I forgot to do something! We got married one week, honeymoon the next, and then I lost track." In his mind, I heard him blame Sam too, who'd evidently been distracted by Emily becoming pregnant again. The two Quileute men made quite the forgetful – and fertile – pair.

"Edward, I'm sorry, Sam and I were going to tell you… Allanah and her cousin have had visions. We're not sure what they mean, but they're dark and foreboding." He turned breathlessly to Alice. "But I'm sure it's nothing you haven't already seen. Two groups of vampires, some in black cloaks and the others with yellow eyes, carrying someone?"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "No," she replied hesitantly. "I haven't seen anything, foreboding or otherwise, for some time."

"How reliable are these Makah friends of yours?" I frowned, skeptical. If my sister hadn't seen it, how legitimate could it be?

"Pretty reliable. Their vision powers have been passed down through generations, just like the shape-shifting gene in my tribe," Jacob answered. "They wouldn't invent or exaggerate what they saw."

Alice and I exchanged another dubious look. Jacob obviously wasn't lying, and his faith in the Makah's character was equally solid, but none of this added up. "The groups they saw were hostile?"

"The ones in black cloaks were. They were chasing something. The others were running away, possibly from the first group… but that's unclear."

"Volturi and Denali," I glanced at Alice, who wordlessly confirmed my suspicions. "So the Volturi are after the Denali coven?"

"Like I said, it's unclear. The two visions might be linked, they might not."

"Strange," I muttered to Alice. She looked no less perplexed than I. "Thanks for informing us, Jacob. We'll keep it in mi –"

In an instant, the three of us went from intriguing conversation to holding onto store shelves for balance. The tiles beneath our feet rumbled as if boiling water was trying to surge upward; the leading edge of products toppled to the floor like a clattering waterfall. From surrounding aisles came the frightened shouts and screams of fellow shoppers who were no less thrilled about this event.

An event I'd only had the pleasure of experiencing twice in the past hundred years – and in places far more geologically active than Washington state. _Earthquakes don't strike this part of the country, _I vainly thought, gritting my teeth against the unnerving sensation. Yet denial wouldn't make the tremors stop. It was clearly happening, whether I deemed it probable or not.

It was a full minute before the shaking faded away. Even then, everyone was hesitant to release their stiff positions. Uneasy glances passed between Alice, Jacob and I as we regained our bearings.

"Wow, that was my first earthquake! Crazy," Jacob exclaimed, plucking out a few stray items that had fallen into his shopping basket.

"A big one. It lasted quite a while," Alice remarked.

"And you didn't see it coming?" I asked incredulously.

Crossing her arms, she looked at me indignantly. "Random acts of nature are nothing like people's actions! I can see one but not the other."

"At least nothing fell on us. Those fluorescent lights would've knocked me out or cut me up pretty bad," Jacob threw a nervous look at the ceiling.

Alice nodded. "Where do you suppose the epicenter was?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

She brushed fine plaster dust from her sleeves. "Let's hope there isn't too much damage at home."

"And that the cash registers are still working," Jacob added. "Allanah won't be too happy if I come home empty-handed. I'd better get back soon, make sure she's all right."

"Us too," I nodded at Alice. "The kids are probably scared to tears." Only Bella and Rosalie were home with them. With Carlisle at work, Jasper & Emmett hunting, and Esme volunteering at the local food bank, the empty house likely amplified the children's fear.

Still a little shaken, our trio walked to the registers, which were thankfully in operation – although half the cashiers had been called to clean up disheveled areas. By the time our items were scanned and bagged, half an hour had passed since the event.

Our paths diverged halfway across the parking lot. Bidding Jacob good day and good luck, I dug in my pocket for the keys. Coincidentally, my cell phone chimed at that very moment.

_Rosalie_. Probably calling to add some last-minute nonsense to the shopping list. "Hello?" I greeted knowingly.

"Edward!" the panic in her voice stung my ears. "Get home NOW!"

Alice could hear Rose's terror as clearly as I. Several spots down, Jacob had also stopped to listen, concerned by her tone. All of us heard children wailing in the background as well.

"They – they came early…" she gasped. "Everyone else was gone… Bella and I didn't stand a chance…"

"Hold on, _who_ showed up early? The Denali coven?"

"Yes! Just ten minutes ago! Oh God…"

"Rose, stay calm! What happened?"

"Oh Edward, it's terrible… I still can't believe it…" she tried to reign in her hysterics. "I should have known something was wrong. Their eyes… they just didn't look right. But they'd traveled so far and we didn't want to seem rude," she inhaled with a shudder. "Bella and I showed them the house, talked for a while. Then everything went wrong."

I may not have been in close proximity to read her thoughts, but instinct filled in the horrible blanks.

"Is Bella… all right?"

"No, Edward – they _took_ her!" Rosalie cried. "They threatened to snap her neck if I interfered! I was all alone, the children were screaming… I'm _so sorry!_" she sobbed.

Numb inside and out, not a single facial muscle of mine twitched.

The Denali's had come and gone without socializing with the rest of us. How intolerably rude.

That they'd abducted my wife and psychologically scarred my children only added to the discourtesy. Good manners really were becoming a thing of the past.

I was blind to the stricken look on Alice's face. Nor did I take notice of Jacob's agape expression as he stood nearby, grocery bags lying at his feet. Sky and asphalt merged before my eyes, blurring the lines between reality, nightmares, and things too grotesque even for nightmares.

"Do you know where they went?"

"Back to Alaska? I don't know! They warned me not to follow, or else…"

I closed my eyes against the mental picture. "I understand. It's not your fault."

"We have to find them!"

"We will," I breathed, trying to bolster my confidence as much as hers. "We'll be home as fast as traffic allows. We can't risk taking off running from here, not in daylight."

As I was ending the call, Jacob was halfway through a call of his own.

"Allanah, something's come up… it's an emergency. I'll call you in an hour if I'm not home yet."

Apparently the news was received well enough, and within seconds, our car engines flared to life and our tires squealed as we sped away. To the handful of shoppers stunned by our wild exit, we probably appeared to be impulsive teens racing each other. But I couldn't care less about misperceptions right now.

At least the children were physically safe. Whether the same could be said of the Denali's when I finished with them… the odds looked about as grim as my current expression.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"_The kids are probably scared to tears." Ironic understatement, Edward!_

_Funny how Edward & Jacob always see each other/cross paths while shopping. Forks is pretty small, so the odds are greater than average, I suppose._


End file.
